All I Want Is Everything
by We're A Two Shot
Summary: After dinner at Breadstix, Santana and Brittany head back to Puck's place where things quickly spiral out of control, forcing Santana to acknowledge this insistent pull towards her best friend is more than just physical. How will she come to terms with it? Follows Santana in Season 2 for the most part completely canon. A more fleshed out sense of how Brittana came to be.
1. Sharing Is Caring

**Author's Note: I haven't written a proper fanfic in like years. Over the past few months I've delved into the world of Glee and never really gotten back since. Out of all the pairings, Brittana has become my favorite. San and Britt are two of my favorite characters and I was happy to see the relationship that formed between them. I had tried to write many fics about them in the past but none ever made it past the critique stage before I scrapped them. So lets get down to the juicy stuff. This is a rated M story for rated M reasons. The more chapters go by the more nakedness you will see. I'm pretty sure I'll continue this story but I don't exactly know how long it'll be. I just needed to get this up here because this fic seemed right. I finally felt like I wrote a story good enough for me and good enough for whoever decides to read this. This fic is set in Santana's POV and begins in the Never Been Kissed episode where Puck and Artie take the girls out to Breadstix. I was watching the episode just the other day and I realized, this would be a great story teller. So I tried to stay original to the date and then explain all that happened...later. I not only wanted to convey Santana's feelings for Brittany but also for Puck. I believe she has some connection with the guy no matter how much of a douche he can be and so I explored that. This fic stays true to the season so everything that has happened before and after this episode will still be in tact. Enjoy it people and if you like it a lot I suggest you review and tell me exactly why. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing about this show but I wish I did.  
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><p>Chapter 1. Sharing Is Caring<p>

It was hard to lie and say I hadn't missed Puck. It felt like ages since he'd been sent away to juvie so when he and Stubbles McCripple-Pants approached Brittany and I in the rehearsal room, I took him up on his offer almost immediately. It was a bittersweet feeling. Brittany had been my warm body replacement up until this point. It was perfect. We were already so comfortable with each other. Why not see each other naked every now and then too? I slept over Brittany's nearly every night. She was the best replacement I'd ever had. Better than any other boy at Mckinley. I wasn't ready to give that up.

I wasn't quite sure why Artie was following Puck's lead so loyally. Brittany had told me that she slept with the poor excuse to ensure she had a solid duet partner. I thought that part was comical already but when she told me he was a virgin and that he claimed Brittany had "walked all over that," I laughed even more. Artie Abrams would never have a girl like Brittany. Ever.

The boys picked Britt and I up around nine. They were late just as they promised. Puck always gave me that I don't really give a shit attitude. I was familiar with that too which explained how I managed to bear his company for so long. We were two of a kind.

On the way to Breadstix, Puck and I drove up front. I examined my man's expressions as he shifted into gears. It had been way too long. His jet black hair had grown out to its suitable length. I noticed an intricate pattern of muscles had formed over his forearms and biceps. The tendons in hands sprung out much more freely; those hands looked stronger. Juvie had done Noah Puckerman some good. I had the sudden urge to ask him to stop the car right then. I wanted him to make the sharpest U-turn this car could handle and drop Artie and Brittany back off. I wanted him to take me right here in this very seat.

As if reading my mind, Puck glanced over at me and smirked. The confidence that oozed out of that face was dripping over everything; including me. I bit my lower lip in just the slightest way before sliding my hand over the center console of the car; into Puck's lap. Tonight was going to be long and rewarding, I was sure.

Before I could begin my routine of heavy petting, my hand froze itself the instant I saw Brittany watching me in my car door mirror. Her presence was suddenly surrounding, encasing me in this box of metal and leather. She was sitting directly behind my seat with her head pressed against the backdoor glass window. I couldn't release myself from her gaze. Those eyes were piercing the very fabrication of my thoughts. She was reading every twinkle of mischief and desire in my smoldering eyes. I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat. It was only Brittany that could dishevel my churning thoughts and inhabit them like an intrusive suggestion without having to utter a word. Those eyes were sharp to every expression I made; every idea I had. She knew me like a watchmaker knew his watch. Every tick, every missing spring; she knew it. No one at Mckinley gave her enough credit. While Brittany was often delayed in class, she was brilliant with me. She knew how to play this game. Our game. I praise her for being the only one who knows how to please me. I'm a bitch to everyone else. I'm a bitch and everyone knows it. Brittany knows it. Brittany also knows how to handle it. She handles me. Puck handles _parts_ of me. But he can never put the entire package together without bailing somewhere along the lines. That's okay. He's the closest anyone's ever gotten besides Brittany. That's why I cherish him too. I cherish them both for being my limbs; my anchors. They stick to me like an adhesive I can't rub off and so it keeps me together.

By the time we arrived at Breadstix I had forgotten we had Stubbles in the car. That brought me out of my ridiculously long fantasies of dining at my favorite place with my two favorite people. Annoyance stabbed at my thoughts when it came to Artie. He was dead weight; literally. I was hoping one day his parents would finally decide to hack off the useless section of his body and donate it to a meat factory. Just get it over with. My complaints about the four eyed loser were never welcomed by Brittany, especially since they had sex. I worried she was growing a soft spot for McCripple-Pants.

Breadstix was packed as usual. The hostess found us a booth in an area that handled more waitress traffic than I would've liked but it was a simple trade off. We either sat here or sat outside of Breadstix. Which one would you pick?

Puck was laying into his juvie stories like he always did when he got out. There was never a time when he didn't have some bizarre tale to reminisce about. Like the time he told Britts and I about the 15-year-old kid who offered Noah a blow job if he scored him a dime bag of weed. Supposedly Puck claims that conversation ended with him punching the kid in the face but often times I had my doubts. I'm pretty sure Noah Puckerman would try anything at least once.

In between ordering my basket full of breadsticks and letting Puck whisper quite suggestively in my ear, I kept an eye on Brittany. Her attention was focused on Artie and how laid back he had suddenly become since hanging out with Puck. I wanted to roll my eyes at the two of them but instead I decided to seek out her very much wanted attention. I let my ankle snake up her bare calf. Her legs were strong from long term Cheerios practice and I loved it. She responded almost immediately, letting her free leg extend itself to my lonesome one. I felt her mimicking my movements subtly. I was surprised to see her baby blue eyes still glued onto Artie's. He wouldn't suspect a thing. Here we were; two cheerleaders getting rather acquainted with their dates while all the while they were playing footsie under the table.

"So there I was, at juvie. In the breakfast line at the mess hall." I heard Puckerman say. "When I noticed me and the guy behind me going for the same waffle." Here we go; another day, another story. "This guy's 6'11, 300, easy. He's got his teeth filed into canines, tats everywhere."

The three of us watched him take breath before saying, "It gets better." Of course it did. "So I turned around and flex my left peck and I flex my right peck." Puck made his chest gestures seriously before saying through gritted teeth, "And I said 'leggo my ego'."

The table flushed with excitement now at his story. I watched Artie lean in to hear more. Brittany on the other hand was concentrating with her best smile not to make eye contact with me as I was still massaging her leg with my own.

"And you know what he does?" Puck asked us with a look of unflappable confidence. "He lets go of my ego."

The table dispersed into praise for Puck and his juvenile victory. I decided to humor him in that moment, saying, "You should be our nation's president."

He gave me that knowing smirk and replied with a maybe. Somebody loved having their ego stroked. Among other things.

My gaze fixed itself on Brittany after a few moments. Her body was turned into Artie and they were speaking in hushed tones. I made out a little bit of their conversation.

"I've been squeezing your leg for like the last hour and a half," she had said to him. Her voice dropped into a whisper when she asked if he wasn't attracted to her. Artie's expression was confused and I bit back a laugh. Though I knew Brittany was smart, sometimes I wondered where exactly her head was at.

I heard what I thought was Artie telling Brittany that he was too distracted by our waitress and I fought the urge to kick the shit out of his limp legs. Instead, I painted on a perfect Santana Lopez smile.

When our granny waitress dropped off the check, I felt Puck's body grow restless beside me. "Alright guys lets move, this meal has been comped," he said comped in a sing song fashion. Puck never paid for food. Even when he had the money to pay, he never bothered. He was too rebellious for that.

Artie was shocked at Puck's dine and dash plan. I could tell Blue Tooth had never skipped out on paying for a meal in his life. He was a crippled choir boy. Britt and I helped ourselves out of the booth and headed for the exit. Everyone at Breadstix knew not to bother questioning me. They remembered my face. I was the girl who had had many employees fired for refusing to give out more breadsticks. They didn't fucks with Santana Lopez.

Britt and I waited by the door as we watched our dates argue over paying the bill. Silly boys. From the looks of it Puck was angry at Artie and giving him a sharp chastise of words. By the end of the scene, Puck was leaving out the door with Brittany and I on either side of him. We had gladly left Artie behind.

On our drive back home I had decided to take the back seat with Brittany. Puck needed to cool off and I didn't want to leave my friend too lonely with the absence of her crippled conquest.

"So where we headed, ladies? My place?" Puck finally asked, adjusting his rear view mirror in the process so he could see us both.

Brittany and I exchanged a look. We both knew Noah Puckerman's was the perfect place to relax. There was usually plenty of booze, cozy couches and those bagels that Jews liked so much.

"Your place," I answered for both of us.

**xXx**

I couldn't remember the last time the three of us had actually hung out in Puck's living room together. When Puck and I started sleeping together so casually it was as if the three of us had split into two cores. In one core it was just Puck and I. We spent time here in his house. I often saw and talked to his mother, who was constantly trying to show me his baby pictures. Brittany and I were the other core. We spent every second together that I wasn't spending with Puck. That time consisted of Cheerios practice, Glee club, working out, going to the mall, watching moronically romantic movies and of course sex. As much as I tried to keep our relationship as physical as possible, friendship often muddied up the strictly drawn line. Puck and I rarely went on dates. Our encounters were more on the side of sexting each other until he couldn't handle it anymore and had to come over. Brittany and I though, it seemed like every time we went out it was a date.

Coming from the kitchen, Puck arrived in the living room with two glasses of darkly mixed liquor. I pulled my hair tie from my ponytail and shook my locks out over my shoulders before accepting the drink. Taking my first sip of my glass, I realized he had mixed us Crown and Cokes. My favorite. That was one thing I loved about Puck's house. His father's liquor cabinet had some of the best whiskey money could buy. I drank a little more eagerly. The alcohol was smooth down my throat but a little stronger than it should have been. Never let Puck mix you anything. I glanced over to see Brittany had nearly drained her entire glass already. It was obvious Crown and Coke was her favorite too.

Puck settled himself on the couch beside me. In one hand he had the bottle of Crown Royal whiskey and his other rested on my exposed thigh. His palm was sweaty and his grin was wide; tipsy. I wondered how much whiskey he had downed in the process of attempting to mix our drinks in the kitchen. Noah leaned in to my neck and within moments I felt his tongue dart out and lick its way up from my pulse point to my ear lobe. Brittany had removed herself from her seat in the recliner across from us and taken the whiskey out of Puck's hands before the dark contents of the bottle spilled over the furniture. I watched her pour herself another glass and act interested in one of Puck's mother's old chair quilts as Puck placed an eager hand over my chest. The look on the blonde's face told me she would need to be drunk before she could deal with seeing this. Puck and I.

A trail of guilt spread through my knees, up my rib cage, past my chest and into my brain. I was torn. I had missed Puck's body, missed his hands, missed his smell, missed everything. But I didn't want to lose Brittany's touch either. Her soft fingertips, her velvet skin, her toned legs, her pink shaded lips. My solution was to drink; a lot. I gently pressed my hands against Puck's broad chest and signaled the bottle from Brittany. The blonde strode over with a slight waver in her step. She sat on the other side of me so that I was squeezed between her and Puck. I took the bottle with no words between us and took a long drink. The raw liquor burned in comparison to when Puck mixed it with Coca Cola. I didn't care though. I wanted to end this tugging in my brain. The bottle was passed around routinely; each of us tilting the poison to our lips with a complete disregard for the hangover that was to spawn tomorrow morning or what was about to happen right now.

My head was beginning to lighten and loll. I noticed Brittany's own head was resting on my shoulder and her hand was playing with the hem of my Cheerios skirt. Her breath against my neck made the hairs stand up. Words began to slip past my lips loosely. I was amazed I could still talk with my tongue this numb and slacken. I slurred out loudly how much I loved them both and how amazing they both were. Brittany was snickering at something. I wasn't sure if it was from the alcohol or just my random outburst of emotion. I turned to Puck then and fit my hands over his flushed cheeks before kissing his lips. They tasted like whiskey and spearmint. I forced his mouth open with my own and pressed my tongue into his warm and ready one. I ground my lips down on his; leaving no room for air. As we kissed I felt a hand slide under the fabric of my Cheerios shirt. At first I had assumed it was Puck but when I opened my eyes I realized that hand was coming from my right; from Brittany. I didn't break away from Puck's lips to ask her what she was doing. I let it happen. She was unclasping my bra for me and nudging her fingers underneath to cup my left breast. Whether Noah noticed this or not, I didn't care. I wanted this all too badly to stop and ask questions or answer them.

The situation became real when Puck ripped his lips from mine. He looked from me to Brittany and me again. The wheels were turning in his head quicker than I had realized so when he said what he did next I was surprised.

"Lets head upstairs ladies."

The three of us. Upstairs. Even in my drunken stupor I knew what those words insinuated but for some reason I couldn't keep my body from pulling off the couch, linking pinkies with Britt and stumbling behind Puck up the stairs. My legs wobbled in the process; it was a struggle to coordinate them on each step without losing my damned balance. An intoxicated Brittany attempted to help me out but that was like the blind leading the blind.

Being in Puck's bedroom sobered me up pretty quickly. This was really happening now. I watched him stumble over onto his bed and Brittany followed suit. She sat cross legged on the bed and beckoned me over with a curling finger. Neither of them moved until I settled myself on Puck's queen sized mattress. I had been here many times before but never like this. Puck made the first move, clumsily sitting up to kiss me greedily on the mouth. My hands found the back of his neck and I ran my fingers over the stubbly hair there before running a hand over his mohawk. My lips were parted just enough so that he could capture my bottom one between his teeth. His bite was more rough than playful. Luckily my mouth was numbed but that was going to hurt in the morning.

When Puck broke our kiss his glassed over eyes wandered in Brittany's direction. I saw how those eyes raked over her body and it heated my skin for just a second. He looked back at me as if asking permission to make the first move. She was looking at me too with those wide penetrative eyes again. I just nodded at them to continue, unsure of how else to react to my two friends suddenly considering the idea of making out and a lot more.

They leaned in to each other at the same time. I couldn't exactly read Brittany's face because she was just so wasted already. Who knew what she was feeling at that point. I watched her place her hands on Puck's shoulders to steady herself while he slid his arms around her back to pull her closer. A tiny sliver of panic raised the hair on my skin when I saw her body press into his and kiss him. The kiss was soft, they were still getting to know each others mouths. It put my clouded mind at ease to know that Brittany hadn't kissed him much in the past with the exception of her kissing list.

Their kiss began to heat up. Brittany's hands were cupping Puck's neck and he was squeezing her tightly. Her tongue was dancing around his, I could tell by the way he moaned into her mouth. I noticed my tiny fists were clenching at my sides. I loosened my grip slowly, willing myself to just calm the fuck down. My chest was bruised from the beating it was taking from my erratic heart. Why couldn't I just watch this and enjoy it? This should have been a dream. Not only could I have Puck but I could have Brittany right now too. We could share.

Puck's hands were pulling Britt's hair out of her ponytail. He ran his fingers through her mane as he worked his lips fervently against hers. There was a bulge in his pants I was almost sure of it. There was no way he couldn't be excited by that kiss. Brittany's kiss usually had me squirming within a few seconds. Brittany's kiss. Suddenly I wanted that to be me. I wanted to be where Puck was right now; in her arms with her mouth dominating mine in the headiest kiss I could handle. I wanted to taste the alcohol on her breath and feel that skilled tongue wrestling against mine and winning. I recognized the jealousy that was creeping its way up my spine to sit perched on my shoulder. Why did she have to kiss Puck like she kissed me? Did she kiss everyone else like that? For fucks sakes she had a kissing list. She knew how to kiss. So when she kissed me was it just like every other guy in school? Oh for fucks sakes shut up Santana; you're making a fool out of yourself. Who cares if Brittany kissed you like that? Who fucking cared. Obviously I did.

"Santana." A deep voice called me. Puck's voice. I shook my darkening cloud of thoughts away and looked up to see the two of them staring at me. Puck's lips were red and swollen from kissing Brittany. I looked to my best friend in that moment. She was smiling sweetly with a hint of seduction playing on those perfect little lips. She was motioning me again with her finger to come closer. It was like my body had been switched to automatic and I had no time to stop myself before I slid over the bed, near her. I felt my body warming in her presence as well as my cheeks. We had never done this in front of an audience. This was a private thing between us. It made me wonder how we got to this point. It was only supposed a dinner. Just one dinner. How did it get so fucked up?

Brittany took my chin into her hand, something she had done a dozen times before. It made the anxiety in my stomach deflate for a moment. It felt like we were alone. I imagined we were in her room on a Saturday. The sun's rays were piercing their way in through the window, warming her milky skin. Her hair was down and surrounding me as she laid me down on her bed. Her lips were welcoming to mine. Her tongue was gentle and it stroked the insides of my mouth with a layer of love I'd never really experienced from anyone else. My hands slid around her back, my nails kneading gently into her skin like a cat. She alternated between sucking my lower lip and digging her tongue into the cavern of my wet mouth. Her fingers were dancing their way up my stomach and ribs; her touch was like a million feathers teasing me. Her hand slid up my chest and rested in between my breasts. My heart was pounding its way into her palm. She literally had my heart in her hand.

Suddenly I felt someone elses hands. I wasn't on Brittany's bed anymore and she wasn't hovering over me. I realized now where I was again; Puck's room, still kissing Brittany but Puck's hands were under my shirt, stroking my sides. His teeth were scraping over my shoulder, gnawing at the bone like a fucking animal. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It wasn't Brittany. That panic I had felt earlier returned and hit me square in the stomach. What if he told someone about this? There was no way he'd keep it to himself. He just couldn't. Noah Puckerman slept with two of the hottest cheerleaders at Mckinley _at the same time. _He would be a legend and I would never live it down. Where it was wrong before it was really wrong now.

I realized I was practically squished in between my two cores once again. Brittany; tender and cozy. Puck; raw and ragged. I know there was a choice to be made here but I didn't want to disappoint either one of my lovers. And so I did the only thing I could. I chose myself.

I broke Brittany's kiss and moved my hands to my sides to stop Puck. They both gave me a look of turmoil and stopped everything they were doing. I was the center of attention now. They were studying their favorite little toy with amusement, confusion, and hunger.

"Bathroom," I said simply. Before they could react I jumped off the bed and headed out the room into the hall. My walking was still not the best but I made it to the bathroom in one piece without breaking anything. I quietly closed the door behind me and sat on the toilet with my head in my hands. It felt like I was spinning around even though I was in a very immobile position. How did I get myself into this situation? I found myself wishing we hadn't left Artie at Breadstix. This would have never even started if he was here to distract Brittany. We probably would've never even come to Puckerman's.

The three sharp raps on the door made me jump from my seat. Fuck. Puck was chasing me, I was sure of it. Another knock. Why wasn't he opening the door yet? One more knock came; followed by a voice. A soft voice.

"San, can I come in?" Brittany asked me through the wooden door.

I nodded but realized she couldn't see and so I answered back with a yes. The door opened and the cheerleader stepped inside, crossing the bathroom tile, heading straight to me.

I looked up at her, "What are you doing?"

Brittany smiled down at me, "I had to pee too."

The way she said it made me realize it was just an excuse to follow me. She was checking on me; making sure I was okay. I was so grateful to have her.

I laughed in relief at her statement and stood up to look at myself in the mirror. We were both in its view and I had to say we looked like hell. Our Cheerios uniforms were as wrinkled as an elephant's trunk and our hair was wilder than an '80s hair band. I turned to her and took her hand in mine.

"Can we bail? Please?" I asked meekly in a voice that sounded nothing like my own. I don't know why I felt the need to even ask because as soon as I had said the words Brittany was nodding her head and leading me out of the bathroom.

We tiptoed our way down the hall and to top of the stairs. This was going to be difficult for two drunks. We held on to the railing for dear life as we tried to turn our feet into the quietest padding these steps had ever faced. Brittany was doing a terrible job of course and every other step was creaking but we made it down without disturbing Noah. I grabbed our things on the couch and Brittany snatched the bottle of whiskey. I rolled my eyes at her before we ran out of the house into the cool night. While I was draping Brittany's Cheerios jacket around her I noticed a look of distraught.

"What's wrong?"

She was drunkenly pouting at me then. "I really did have to pee."

A deep laugh escaped my throat and I had to cover my mouth to not tip off Puck. There was no where else to go besides the side of Puck's house where there were a couple of shrubs she could hide behind. I felt a twinge of guilt about Britt peeing publicly on the Puckerman property but that was only because I liked his mother and didn't want to hurt her feelings. I had no choice though, Brittany was gonna pee no matter what; she was too drunk to hold it in.

When Britt was done I took her hand once more and led her out to the sidewalk. We began our trudge back to my house which thankfully was not too far away. Her head was lolling onto my shoulder as we walked. She never let go of my hand. Not once. I realized my decision to leave was not just about me. It was about Brittany too and how much I didn't want to share her with anyone else.


	2. In The Moment

**Author's Note: So I began writing this chapter out about a day after I posted my first. It didn't flow right for me and so I completely scrapped it and about a day or two ago I started over fresh and things just clicked from there. I'm really enjoying writing this story. It helps get my own creative ideas out and it also helps me to see a little more into everyone's character. This picks up about three days from Friday night when my last chapter took place. I hope I did well here and I hope you all like it. I noticed an amazing amount of you have alerted this story already and I'm very glad so thank you for that. Remember to review as well so that you can tell me what you really think and how I am progressing. Speak your mind it only takes a second. Enjoy.**

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><p>Chapter 2. In The Moment<p>

The cycle of my hungover weekend went a little like this: sleep, puke, sleep, medicate, puke, re-medicate, sleep some more. It was the longest two days of my life and Puck's constant texting grew so tiring that I decided to turn off my phone. So when my best friend approached me in the hall on Monday I felt a sliver of guilt spread up the vertebrates of my spine.

"I feel like I haven't seen you all weekend," Brittany started off with an adorable pout.

I gave her a light smile. "That's because you haven't."

"Your phone was off and whenever I came by your mom said you were sleeping," she explained.

I sighed and dug my English book out of my locker. "I wasn't ignoring you or anything. I had a massive hangover and Puck wouldn't stop bothering me."

"He came over?" She asked curiously.

"No," I said a little too quickly, shaking my head for her to see. I don't know why I felt the need to assure her of this but I found myself doing it without much thought. "He sent me a dozen texts. After a while I just stopped reading them."

Brittany nodded and looked down to inspect her fingernails. I took the opportunity to really see her for the first time since she left my bedroom that early Saturday morning. She looked flawless. Her hair was pulled back into a perfect ponytail, her face was shining with a vibrant glow and her eyes were illuminated by an inner fire. She looked as if a hangover had never even touched her. I was envious.

I slammed my locker shut and signaled for Brittany's pinky. The blonde linked hers without question and we began our trip to English class. Blue Tooth rolled past us in the hall, giving Brittany a smile to which she happily returned. I was sick to my stomach at my best friend's obvious affection toward the loser on wheels. We hadn't mentioned Artie since our...date and I was under the comforting impression that Brittany had forgotten all about her previous conquest but to no avail they were still giving each other exceptionally long looks. It pissed me off. It seemed as if Brittany was constantly disregarding the social standing I had worked so hard to build for us. She was injuring her reputation as a popular Cheerio to smile at some cripple in suspenders who rode the short bus. Why couldn't she just play by the rules?

Quinn Fabray sure as hell played by them. She had Sam Evans in her back fucking pocket. The guy practically groveled at her feet. And for what? She was just as much a manipulator as I was. The only difference was that she exercised her inner prude so that guys would chase her, convinced into thinking she'd one day give it up; that she was worth it. I on the other hand, openly flaunted my body as a prize for the race. Some people would consider that slutty but it worked. It definitely worked on Puckerman. I wondered what Noah was doing at this very moment. I'm sure he was pissed at me. I could almost hear him chastising me for being a tease; a prude just like his beloved Quinn. He always used her against me. As much as I hated to admit it, she was the only thing in his life that was better. In any other circumstance, I could run circles around that girl but when it came down to it, I couldn't compete with a girl who had bore his child. As stupid as it was for her to even trust Puck, it still placed me at a lower rank on the totem pole. Well, Puck's totem pole.

The English book I had pulled from my locker was more for Brittany than myself. She had a nasty habit of leaving her books in the most random of places. Just last week I found her geometry book on her front lawn. When I asked her how it got there she claimed that she was studying geometric planes and that she had thrown the book out the window expecting it to fly away. It was times like that that I loved Brittany the most. She had an innocence about her that continued to astound me. I often wondered how we ever became friends. She was kind and humble while I was mean and selfish. The fates of the universe debated on our pairing I'm sure.

English was about as fun as a root canal. I spent my hour watching Mike Chang throw paper at a snoring Sam Evans, Kurt stare into his compact mirror, repeatedly adjusting his hair and Finn Hudson holding hands with Rachel Berry under their desks. Frankenteen and The Hobbit. Opposites did attract; how romantic. I didn't understand Finn. Who has sex with one of the hottest girls in school and doesn't even brag about it? Sex with Finn was about as exciting as watching a cat clean itself. He moved like a fish out of water and when I tried to teach him new positions, limbs were just...everywhere. I left that motel room with bruises and not the good kind. For once, I pitied the midget on what she was going to encounter on their wedding night. Yes, wedding night. I doubt Rachel will even let him get to third base before then. Besides being the oddest lay I've ever had, Finn was the most decent. I had never had someone take me out to dinner after wards. That made me feel normal, like this was what its like to have a relationship. Of course I didn't want a relationship with Finn, that would be the castration of my libido but I would never forget how comfortable he made me feel.

**xXx**

Puck found me just after sixth period. Brittany and I were on our way to getting dressed for the boys versus girls Glee club challenge. I had managed to avoid him all day but nothing could save me now. He stalked over with an unreadable expression and leaned against someone's locker, blocking our path.

"Hey Britt," I addressed my friend. "Go on and get dressed, I'll be there in just a second."

The blonde nodded before starting off down the hall. Puckerman craned his neck behind him to watch her leave. He turned back to me with a smirk spreading his lips.

"So what happened to you Friday?"

With all the time I had spent avoiding him, I hadn't thought of what I was going to say when this moment came. I had no excuses ready.

"Well..." I began. I needed to buy myself some time. I really didn't want to tell him why I had left. I didn't want to tell him that I panicked at the thought of getting intimate with Brittany in front of him. I didn't want to tell him how uncomfortable it was to watch him kiss her and for her to kiss him back as if it was nothing. I didn't want to tell him how _jealous_ it made me feel inside. And in reality I didn't want to tell him I wasn't jealous of my best friend kissing my man...I was jealous of my man for kissing my best friend. I decided to go the safe route.

"Brittany wasn't into it," I affirmed.

Noah gave me an incredulous look. "She seemed pretty into it at the time when I was kissing her."

"She wasn't, trust me," the words tumbled past my lips a little too quickly and a little too forceful. I didn't know who I was trying to convince more, me or him? I took a breath to calm my nerves and the ever growing urge to punch Noah Puckerman in the face for being so god damn cocky. I loved it most of the time but right now it was the most aggravating thing in the world.

"Babe," he coaxed. "Ask her to reconsider. Adding another girl would really spice things up for us." He took a step towards me. I dug my nails into the palms of my hands, biting the inside of my cheek. "Besides, do you know how good that would make all three of us look in this school? The football team would bow down to me and you two would be adored."

He was trying to manipulate me, using my desire to be on top at Mckinley as validation for a threesome. No one manipulated Santana Lopez.

A couple of girls from my Cheerios squad passed by. I smiled at them sweetly and waited until they turned the corner before grabbing Puckerman by the shirt and slamming him into the locker.

"Listen up Noah, there's no way in hell you're gonna tell Karofsky and that ape Azimio about any of this. Brittany doesn't want it out around school. If I hear one person mention a threesome I will never sleep with you again."

Okay so maybe that last part was a little harsh but I had to make my point.

He was raising his hands in a surrender, smiling at my sudden mood swing. "You're really hot when you're angry."

I unclenched my tiny fists from the fabric of his clothes before smoothing out my Cheerios uniform. "I'll see you in Glee club."

And with that I was gone.

**xXx**

In spite of my recovering hangover, there were two reasons why I still participated in our Start Me Up/Livin On A Prayer mash up. First and foremost I was in love with Bon Jovi and The Stones. Secondly, we all planned to go for that biker chick look which meant seeing Brittany in loads of leather. That was a gift in itself. I'm sure Puck struggled not to pop his load at the sight of us together. I'll even give it to Berry for putting on such a bad girl performance. We had this challenge in the fucking bag.

As celebration, Quinn invited us girls to her house for a hot tub party. Brittany and I gladly accepted. Between Cheerios practice, rehearsing for the Glee club challenge and me just being hungover, a hot tub was such a heavenly request. Tina declined, claiming she had a date with Mike at some place called Dim Sum and Mercedes had undisclosed plans with Kurt that I suspected involved braiding each others hair and reading Vogue. That left just me, Brittany, Quinn and...Rachel. The brunette looked terribly uncomfortable in the jacuzzi with her black one piece bathing suit on. I'm pretty sure Mercedes never gave her the heads up that she wouldn't be making it. If she had, Rachel would have probably skipped this little get together.

"So I think Mr. Shuester really liked our performance guys," I heard the dwarf sputter out. In this hot tub, among us girls, Berry was the sheep and we were the lions.

Quinn held up a hand in the tub, silencing Rachel. "Man Hands please, I don't want to hear about school right now. Just relax."

I suppressed a laugh at the irony of this situation. I was pretty sure every girl in this hot tub had kissed Rachel's boyfriend and more...except Rachel.

"So what should we talk about?" Berry attempted again. "Boys?"

Oh god this conversation was not coming up.

"Sure," Quinn was humoring her. "Lets talk about boys. Who do you like Brittany?"

"What are we, in sixth grade?" I snapped at Quinn. Honestly, I didn't want to know who Brittany was into at the moment.

"Artie," Brittany stated simply. I was dreading those words. "He's like an adult baby I can wheel around everywhere."

For a moment, everyone in the hot tub just stared at her. Oh Brittany.

"He has a nice voice," Rachel complimented. I shot her the iciest glare I could manage. I didn't want anyone encouraging Brittany's feelings.

"Well Sam and I are just perfect for one another," Quinn bragged. She hadn't even bothered to comment on Brittany's romantic choice. This was exactly why she had agreed to talk about boys; she wanted to talk about herself. Subtly manipulative bitch. "He's a complete gentleman when we make out and never pushes too far."

I rolled my eyes at her and bit the inside of my cheek before I said something that would get me permanently kicked out of the hot tub. Of course Sam was a gentleman. He didn't want her desperate ovaries trapping him in another nine months of ultrasounds, maternity clothes shopping and non existent sex that was replaced with a fat hormonal girl. Sometimes Quinn could be so god damn naive. I spread my arms out over the deck and allowed the powerful jets of the tub to vibrate through my back. This was one of the finer perks of being "friends" with Quinn.

The water crashed in waves around us, awakening every fiber in my body. I was sinking into a blissful state of consciousness and it felt _good_. I halfheartedly listened to the conversation going on around me. Sam was the perfect guy. Finn was very sensitive. Artie was a robotic adult baby. All of this fucking boy talk. Frankly after todays encounter with Puck, I didn't want to hear the word boy let alone listen to the girls gush about them. There weren't even enough Rachel Berry insults circulating to keep me entertained any longer. And so I indulged in my own means of entertainment. Brittany.

Berry was disturbingly close to me so no one was surprised when I pushed myself off the edge of the hot tub and glided over to where Brittany was sitting. She gave me a welcoming smile, looking pleased at my sudden proximity. With the bubbling water spreading a coat of foam around us, I was safe to nudge my hip and legs against her. I could tell she was concentrating on the way I was moving because she didn't bother to include herself in Quinn and Rachel's half assed conversation. Every once in a while Stretch Marks Fabray would make a snide comment to which the dwarf easily deflected. These girls had some serious armor and they were in a constant power struggle; a game of metaphorical chess. Brittany and I were just innocent bystanders. Well, maybe just bystanders.

Under the water, I pressed my palm flat against Brittany's thigh. Like me, her skin was burning from the relentless heat. I massaged that part of her body with great care, applying just the right kind of pressure to the muscles. A barely audible hiss passed through her teeth when I dragged my nails up and down her skin there. I felt her hand grip mine, ceasing my motions. Confused, I looked up to read her face which was darkened with a lust I had seen so many times before in my bedroom. She guided my hand between her legs and pressed it directly over her center. She cocked an eyebrow, daring me to go through with it. Instinctively, I scanned the hot tub for any onlookers. Berry must have said something upsetting to Quinn because they were both turned away from each other with their arms crossed over their chests. Brittany and I must have looked quite odd to them. I didn't want an audience.

"Its hot as hell in here. I'll be in the bathroom I wants to freshen up."

"You know where to go," Quinn responded dismissively.

I withdrew myself from the steaming water and reached for a towel out on the deck, wrapping it around my body. Brittany and I exchanged a knowing look before I disappeared inside Quinn's house. There was an eeriness about the place now that Quinn's dad had moved out. The curtains were often kept closed and there were picture frame outlines left behind on the walls from where her mom had removed photos of Mr. Fabray. I could only imagine how grief-stricken Mrs. Fabray was. She was in the mourning stage of her marriage. Mourning the metaphorical death of a faithful husband. I recognized the pity that was burrowing its way into my heart. Perhaps Quinn was such a bitch all the time because her family was so divided. That seemed like a logical answer but didn't help explain my attitude towards the rest of the world. Mister and Misses Lopez were running a marriage of 17 years, so why was I so fucked up?

I waited in the bathroom, perched on the double sink counter top. She would come for me. She always did. Falling into the routine of Friday night, I heard those three raps at the door. Only this time I wasn't freaking out at the idea of touching Brittany so intimately; I was hungry for it. There was no one here but us. She let herself in, not bothering to wait for my permission. Her back was pressed against the door. I was staring at her from my spot on top of the counter, legs dangling below me. My heart was thudding its blood into my ears. The rhythm of her rising and falling chest was changing. Her breathing kicked up a notch. She was reacting to the way my eyes devoured her body. Her skin looked as if it were pulsating with heat, drawing all of the energy out of the bathroom to take it within herself. That energy moved me to my feet, dragging me to her automatically as if I were on auto pilot. She literally had the power to do that. My palms rested on either side of her head against the door. Her body fit into the mold of mine perfectly. We were perfect. It didn't make sense how people could say that girls were not anatomically compatible with one another. Brittany's body was made for mine.

I lost myself in the bottomless gaze of her blue-gray smoldering eyes. The desire that stirred in those orbs shattered my will and before I knew it my lips were crashing down on hers with unspeakable force. Her lips fell in to the rhythm of my kiss effortlessly. Kissing Brittany was as easy as breathing. She parted my lips with her tongue and flicked the tip of it against mine teasingly. I stroked her tongue with a degree of gentleness I failed to show any boy at school. There was a great contrast between our actions as my hips were pinning her to the door in an instinctual dominance and her hands were caressing my body ever so delicately. My body reacted in a shudder at the feel of her flat palm tracing its way up and down my abdomen. Her touch was electrically charged against my skin and pumped my heart double the amount of blood already circulating. I broke the kiss first to look into those eyes. They were burning so brightly I feared I may just be incinerated.

My lips pressed softly into her neck. I laid delicate kiss after delicate kiss upon her warm skin. Brittany's hand cupped my breast, catching the nipple between her thumb and index finger only to tease it erect. A sultry wave permeated through my body and settled between my legs. My kisses turned bruising when I began suckling the skin on her neck just above an intricate rope of veins. I felt her heart throbbing through her pulse point there as if it were chanting my name, encouraging my actions. Brittany's hands were kneading my breasts skillfully, keeping the ever growing sensation pulsing through my body. My hands slid down the door, past her head and began untying the knotted strings on the sides of her bikini bottoms. I skimmed my teeth across her collarbone as I did this, causing her to slide her arms around my neck and grind her hips into me.

With the strings of her bikini untied, I went for it, making sure to go painfully slow just to tease her a little more. My hand was engulfed in a blanket of heat as it made its way down to her center. I listened to her breath hitching inside of her throat, holding it there. My fingertips tickled over her smooth mound just before I-

"Santana? Brittany? Are you guys still in there?"

That was the voice of Satan himself. Rachel fucking Berry.

We froze in place. My hand stiff in Brittany's bikini bottoms. Her nails digging painfully good into the nape of my neck. My mouth pressed against the center of her chest mid kiss. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Hello?" Her fucking voice again.

"What the fuck do you want Berry?" I spat out so vehemently it made Brittany cringe.

"Do you mind passing me a towel from the cupboard in there? I'm soaking wet and...well, Quinn didn't bother to remember my towel."

"Go away you fucking creature from the black lagoon."

I was not doing a good job at being discreet.

There was silence for a moment. Maybe that was a little harsh. Well actually no. Not harsh enough.

"Fine," I heard Berry say. "I'll just get it myself."

The door struggled to open under me and Brittany's weight.

"Berry," my voice snapped dangerously. "I'll gets you the fucking towel."

Reluctantly I removed myself from Brittany. She looked bare and vulnerable, already missing my body against hers. I stomped over to the cupboard in the bathroom and ripped a neatly folded towel out. Brittany moved to the side as I cracked the door open and shoved the towel at Rachel's fucking gargantuan beak of a nose. The hobbit didn't even have a chance to say thank you before I slammed the door in her face. I waited a few seconds before pushing Brittany back into the nearest wall. My lips hovered to descend on hers once more when we heard a knock. My mouth flew open with an insult but it caught in my throat when I heard the voice through the door.

"Hey girls," Mrs. Fabray addressed us brightly. "Come on out I've made some delicious cranberry custard pie."

I watched Brittany's eyes light up at the word pie and I knew Mrs. Fabray had won her over. For fucks sake was I ever going to get my mack on? Before I knew it Brittany was pulling me out of the bathroom to follow Quinn's mother. Quinn was already in the kitchen, still clad in her bathing suit. Rachel fucking Berry was there too enjoying the dessert with the towel I had given her tucked around her waist, probably trying to hide those ugly boy hips of hers. Brittany sparked up a genuine conversation with Quinn's mother as if we weren't just practically fucking in the bathroom a few minutes ago. I loved Brittany for being so in the moment. She had no regrets in her life, not one. I wondered if I'd ever be as good as her. There was a slim chance.


	3. A Walk In The Park

**Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to get an update out but I was a little unsure of how to go about this chapter. It took a lot of rewrites and such to make it just right but I think this may be one of my favorites so far. I've been experiencing my own emotional hardships and I think a little bit of that came through in this chapter but all the more reason to love it for being so...feely. I enjoyed writing this chapter because I got to exercise my writing of emotions and dialogue through Brittany and Santana. It was fun to write this and I am very pleased with how well it turned out. Please don't forget to review and let me know what you think guys. I need your gut wrenching opinions on this one, its sort of important. Enjoy.**

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><p>Chapter 3. A Walk In The Park<p>

Brittany's incoming ringtone was the first thing I heard as I came back to consciousness that early Saturday morning. Every inch of my body ached from our relentless week of Cheerios practice and the comfort of my bed sheets maintained an unbreakable allure. I groaned and reluctantly rolled over to snatch my Iphone off the nightstand. The screen was warm against my cheek from where the sun's face had bathed it through my bay window.

"Hello," I answered groggily while rubbing my palm against my eyes.

"Hey San, did I wake you?" Brittany's bright voice came over the receiver. She was an early riser.

My sharp tongue urged me to make a sardonic comment out of agitation but I kept it to myself. Save all that mocking sarcasm for someone I didn't really give a shit about.

"No," I lied lightly. "I was up anyway. What's up Britt Britt?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to go to the park this morning. Me, you, and Lord Tubbington."

"Britt, Lord Tubbington's an indoor cat. He can't just go to the park," I explained into the phone.

She was silent for a moment. I could tell she was trying to mull this over in her head. "He needs the exercise San. Last week he threw a house party and binged on an entire tub of ice cream before passing out between the couch cushions."

I closed my eyes and smiled into the phone, imagining her sitting on her bed, stroking the oversized cat's back with a look of concern for him. She loved that cat so much, how could I let her down? "Do you have a harness ready for him Britt?"

"Yes...well, it's a pet pig harness but that was the only size that would fit."

"Only in Lima do people own pet pigs," I mumbled while shaking my head. "I like where this is going but honestly you're gonna have to sweeten the pot a little bit, it's so damn early and cold."

"Pots? You didn't say anything about cooking, I thought we were going to the park," Brittany responded a little perplexed.

I huffed into the receiver. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes Britt, just wait for me. Afterwards we'll grab a coffee."

"Sounds good, see you soon Santana."

"See you Britt.

The clock on my nightstand read 9:15 when I finally managed to leave my bed. Light illuminated through my windows but I could still feel the morning chill seeping through the glass. I threw on an old Mckinley High hoodie and a pair of cheer sweats before pulling my hair up into a ponytail. I'm pretty sure I looked like hell but this was Brittany I was meeting, she'd seen me at my very worst. It wasn't like I was about to spend my whole day with someone like Puckerman. If that were the case I wouldn't be wearing...well, anything.

Brittany was waiting outside when I pulled up to her house. Our attire was nearly identical for the bleak weather and sure enough Lord Tubbington sat immobile next to her with a large harness fit around his body. That cat was so fucking big. I watched the color flush back into Brittany's cheeks as she approached the car. She wore a smile that crinkled at her eyes and sent a subtle wave of satisfaction through me. It was early and it was cold but if this was what made her happy, how could I complain? Brittany's happiness reverberated off the walls when you were around her. It was something inevitably contagious that got into your bloodstream; kind of like mono but way less shitty. The opposite of shitty in fact.

"I brought some things to take with us," Brittany announced while holding up a picnic basket. "Strawberries, scones, orange juice, vodka, peaches-"

"Vodka?" I asked incredulously. "What happened to coffee?"

She looked over at me with wide eyes. "I asked my mom what sweetening the pot meant and she said that I have to add something that makes the pot better. So I figured since alcohol makes _everything _better we could dump this vodka in a pot full of tomato sauce or something."

The way she emphasized "everything" made me wonder if she were referring to alcohol making us better as well. She was probably right. More right than she knew.

"I think you mean wine in spaghetti sauce Britt," I managed through a chuckle. "For the last time, there will be no cooking on this adventure."

I eyed the bottle of vodka poking out of the basket and bit my lip. "Actually, keep that in there, the least I can do is come out of this with a few screwdrivers."

Brittany tilted her head, studying my face. "Why would you need a screwdriver?"

I hung my head. "Never mind. Lets get going."

We drove in silence for maybe all of three minutes before she turned up the radio in my car. With anyone else that would've pissed me off but with Brittany I was strangely calm about all this. It was hard not to stare at her while she squirmed in her seat, belting out lyrics. As far as she was concerned this was _our_ car. We shared so many things in our lives: clothes, shoes, drinks, secrets. Even each other. Everything just seemed to mesh together. This was about as normal as things were going to get for me; days like this. Days where I didn't have to shove my feet in painfully narrow heels and zip myself into skin binding dresses just so Puck would notice me. Days where I didn't have to wonder if he'd call. Brittany _always _called. This was the kind of day that I allowed my life to be put on hold by this blonde sitting next to me. This day everything stopped and turned into a celebration of just being us. It was these days that I lived for.

**xXx**

To my surprise the park was heavily occupied. I couldn't understand why anyone would want to wake up at such an ungodly hour to sit under a tree. Getting Lord Tubbington active was a pain. He lazed around on the grass, refusing to go any further. Impatience taking over, I nudged his backside sharply with my foot causing him to retort with a hiss. Brittany shot me a pointed look that disintegrated the malicious smile trying to form on my face before it even began. I sculpted out my most sincere expression before grabbing her picnic basket and linking my pinky with hers. She complied quite easily and proceeded to drag Lord Tubbington along with us. The air felt good against my cheeks, it was cold yes, but much more tolerable than when I first woke up this morning. My senses were on alert in my newly open surroundings. The grass looked lusher, the tree branches swayed with a natural grace in the wind, and the people were just so...content. Brittany's small pinky in mine took on a feeling of its own. It was such a subtle form of contact but it felt so much more intimate. This connection we had was linked strongly like our pinkies and yet the bond was so fragile that without carefulness we could lose that feeling all together.

Brittany managed to settle us under the biggest oak tree in the park. I watched her gingerly spread out the small blanket she had previously packed in her basket and set the cat down on it. Lord Tubbington made no effort to leave his spot like any normally curious cat would. Brittany shook her head in disappointment at the animal before motioning me over. I settled right beside her, our backs against the aging tree. A pregnant silence fell over us which was unusual with Brittany. Something was on her mind.

"This was nana's favorite tree," I heard her whisper under her breath. So this was what it was. "She used to take me and Ali here all the time. We'd drink tea and she'd read to us until we fell asleep."

She bit her lip, I waited for her to continue. "I remember I'd get so badly sunburnt," she said, smiling to herself. "Somehow I'd always manage to wiggle my way out into the sunlight and end up waking up as a lobster. Nana chose this tree because it was so big that we were literally just engulfed in the shade of its leaves."

She lowered her head to the ground, relishing in the silence again. She didn't expect me to respond, she just wanted to say it; just to get it out there. Brittany lost her nana when she was 13 years old. I still remember the day she got the call. We were at cheer camp and she took the first bus back to Lima to attend the funeral. I followed her without question. That was probably my least favorite summer. Brittany made a full demeanor change in those three months and began to rely more heavily on the lighter side of things to keep her leveled. I had only met her nana a handful of times but I was blown away by her beauty. Brittany—although younger—was a spitting image of her. Her satin like hair was an impressive white blonde and her eyes were crystalline blue. Those eyes could either wither your confidence down to nothing or melt your heart into liquid. And her skin, god her skin was flawless. Wrinkles posed no threat to this woman. Her looks continued to flourish throughout her years, time was good to her. Brittany's nana was a constant in her life. With Mrs. Pierce going through a tough separation from Mr. Pierce, Brittany and Ali were practically on their own. There was the threat of divorce in the air and it made everything so much more intense. Their nana took over, turning into the maternal figure they truly needed. The fact that Brittany was sharing these things—about such a powerful figure in her life—made me feel honored. I honored her confidence in me.

Brittany sat with her legs drawn up to her chest, reserved and protected but at the same time vulnerable. She managed a strained laugh and wiped desperately at a falling tear.

"I'm sorry San. Were supposed to be having fun," her voice was hoarse from choking back an incoming sob. "I don't mean to put a damper on things. Really."

She reached up to rid her eyes of more tears but I placed my hand over hers to stop her. Her troubled gaze flickered from me to my hand and back to me again. "Don't apologize for missing someone. It's okay to miss them. It kind of validates how human you really are. Don't ever apologize for that."

It was as if she needed to hear those words because the next tear that fell, she didn't try to hide. She let it slide past the brim of her eyelid and run over her cheek. One more out of the other eye. She didn't bother holding it back, there was no need anymore. And then I curled my fingers around her held hand, cupping it. I brought that fragile little hand up to my lips and pressed a soft kiss on each fingertip. Her body trembled just slightly as she watched me. I examined her features, seeing her nana's eyes, her smooth complexion, and her silky hair. But I also saw pieces that were just Brittany: the tiny trio of freckles going up her neck, her naturally long lashes, and her perfectly structured cheekbones that seemed to highlight every beautiful detail of her face whenever she smiled. No tear could blemish that face.

Brittany entwined her fingers with mine, sending me a grateful smile to which I returned automatically.

"So," she began, drying her eyes with her free hand. "What was this about a screwdriver?"

I smirked. "I thought you'd never ask."

**xXx**

I was convinced Brittany's picnic basket was bottomless when she pulled out not only vodka but ice, a bottle of orange juice, cups, and even more fruit. That thing was like Mary Poppins' magic satchel. So maybe it was just now a half past ten and probably way too early to be drinking but we blamed it on Britt's emotional breakdown. Anyone would need a drink after that. In that bottomless picnic basket she pulled yet another blanket out with which she placed over Lord Tubbington's head. She claimed she didn't want him seeing his mother get so...

"Loose," Brittany explained. "I don't want him to think I'm an alcoholic."

My tongue burned to comment on the first part of her sentence but I refrained out of politeness. Brittany always had a way with words.

"I don't think he'll care Britt," I assured her while pulling the cloth off the cat's head.

I could feel her eyes on me as I poured the vodka over her cup of ice. I motioned for the orange juice without looking at her and she passed it along wordlessly. I added a good portion of the juice before nursing my own cup of vodka. With my index finger I stirred Brittany's drink until the contents had mixed and passed her the cup. I leaned back on my elbows against the picnic blanket while she gripped the back of her hooded Cheerios sweatshirt and pulled it over her head. The tank top she wore underneath rid up, showing off her bare stomach. I swallowed a mouthful of my drink at the sight and averted my eyes quickly when her face was uncovered. Satisfied now with the cool breeze caressing her skin, Brittany spread herself out beside me. Our elbows grazed but I didn't speak, I just listened to her exhale in content. Pacing myself, I took careful sips from my cup. After all, I was the designated driver. Brittany on the other hand, had thrown her self control out the window. I watched the blonde tilt her cup back and allow the liquid to roll smoothly down her throat. The sun was perched higher in the sky now but the wind kept me cool. Lord Tubbington had fallen asleep on his side. I noticed Brittany was stroking his belly while she downed the contents in her cup. My drink was at the half way point but I could tell she was nearly finished with hers.

A slight buzz began to take hold of me. I felt myself grinning for no apparent reason. I probably looked like a real asshole right now. Brittany gave me a crooked smile. She was sitting cross legged on the blanket swaying from her equilibrium imbalance. With my movements slightly on the clumsy side, I failed to stop her from reaching around me to grab the bottle of vodka.

"You gives that back right now," I said lowly. Where I wanted my voice to sound dangerous it came off comical. Fucking alcohol.

A playful smile danced along her lips. "You'll have to take it from me."

I took the time to drain my cup some more before I set it down carefully and lurched towards her. Brittany shrieked when I came down on top of her. She held the glass bottle high above her head, making sure not to spill any. I used one hand to pin her right arm down at her side while I reached over her with the other for the vodka. The lower half of her body was wiggling underneath me and I had to admit it felt good. I ground my hips down into her purposefully while we wrestled for the bottle.

"Oh come on Santana, I know you can do better than this," Brittany teased.

I extended my arm even more and managed to snatch the bottle from her grasp. I released her wrist and propped my elbow up to ease some of my weight off of her. If I hadn't known any better, it looked as if she was disappointed about that. Our faces were still leveled and inches apart. Her heart was jack hammering into my ribs. Brittany's eyes were staring at my lips and I was staring at those eyes that stared so intently at me.

We nearly jumped out of our skin when my cell phone began to blare. We both turned our heads in the direction of my bag and waited for the sound to die down. Seconds later all was silent again. I looked back down at Brittany and we resumed our staring contests. The phone rang off again. Fuck me. Not willing to push myself off of her, I reached over and grabbed my bag with my free hand. My Iphone claimed I had two text messages. I slid my finger over the screen to unlock it and read the first.

**From: **Puck

_hey babe i start my shift at sheets n' things in like 20 minutes quickie before i go?_

I rolled my eyes at the message and fumbled my fingers over the screen to read the next.

**From: **Puck

_i can get over there within five im in the area leave ur door unlocked_

The last part of his text made me clench my fist around the phone, wishing I had the strength to crush it. I hated how he thought he could just come and go whenever he pleased. My parents were not around for most of my days but they still lived there. I hated how Puck disregarded that. I hated how he thought it was okay to just do whatever the fuck he wanted to do. Mostly, I hated that he thought I would just let him do it.

_Sry not home. At the park with a date. _I typed the message out on my screen and pressed send. I wanted to piss him off. It was only fair. I could hear Brittany's labored breathing underneath me. She was waiting for me to give her an explanation of what was happening. After a moment, the Iphone rang again with another message.

**From: **Puck

_k text me when ur done _

I sighed deeply.

"Who was it?" I could hear the concern laced in Brittany's voice.

I wordlessly handed her the phone. Her eyes scanned the screen quickly, reading every message with a blank expression. She finally looked up to meet my eyes. Brittany placed the phone down and allowed her hands to slide up my arms, beginning a soothing massage.

"He doesn't even care," I found myself whispering. I felt the urge to curl up into a ball. Puck's texts hadn't completely pushed me into weepy drunken Santana just yet but I felt it coming; fast. However, the words that pierced the air next stopped my emotional breakdown all together and replaced it with something else. Something like fear.

"Is this really a date like you told Puck in that text?"

I was immobile for a mere second before I pulled myself off of Brittany. That familiar lump developed in my throat and that awful panic feeling swelled in my chest. Perhaps showing her those texts was a bad idea. I struggled to find my words. She was looking at me expectantly.

"Brittany I don't know," my voice croaked. It didn't even sound like me. "It's just...I really don't know."

Her expression was pained but I saw confusion more than anything else. "You don't like our sweet lady kisses?"

"No," I said quickly. Realizing how definite that sounded I backtracked even faster. "I mean yes, I do like our sweet lady kisses. I really do. It's just people don't always approve of that. Some people don't think it's okay."

Brittany mulled this over in her brain for a minute. I couldn't quite read her expression now; it was such a mixture of emotions.

"Why do you care what everyone thinks about it?"

Her question threw me. Why did I care? Was I afraid of what I would look like to them? Or maybe it was what they'd call me. Santana the carpet muncher. That name made me fucking cringe. But it was just a name. Who fucking cared? People called me a bitch all day long at Mckinley. Why was this so much worse?

"I don't care," I countered.

"Then kiss me right here Santana," Brittany replied lowly. "Kiss me in this park with all these people that care so much."

Her words shocked me. Brittany never demanded anything out of me. This recurring seriousness of her's made me uncomfortable. The roles were suddenly reversed and she had the power play. I didn't like it.

"Brittany..." I trailed off. "You don't get this. It's not easy. It'll never be easy."

She turned away from me and picked up the blanket she had previously thrown on Lord Tubbington. The blanket was tossed into my lap. I looked down at it and back to her, confusion in my eyes.

"There," she said, gesturing to the blanket. "Now kiss me."

My eyebrows pressed together, forming a crease. "What?"

Brittany removed the blanket from my hands and fluffed it into the air, allowing it to drape over us. Her small hands were pressing me down to lay flat on my back. The sun was blotted out by the cloth and I could feel her body laying right beside me.

"I know it's not easy," her breath tickled my ear. "I don't want to change what we have. But I need to know you're still the fearless Santana Lopez I met eight years ago. Prove that. Kiss me in this park full of strangers."

It finally clicked. No matter how light this relationship or friendship was, she didn't want me to be gutless in it. She wanted me free to be who I was even if that meant doing it in the safety of this blanket; in this public place full of critiques. It was a start.

My lips found hers in the comforting darkness. The kiss was soft and welcoming. Intensity was replaced with intimacy in this kiss. Somehow this kiss was not sexual. This was the kiss of a friend who was comforting her friend. A kiss of acceptance. A kiss of reassurance that everything would be alright. I melted into this kiss, liquifying all of my sorrow and Brittany's from earlier. This was a kiss that could repair all of that pain. Brittany was healing a part of me in this moment. I don't even think she knew it.


	4. Skins

**Author's Note: This was a long ass chapter for me to write but surprisingly it only took me one day. Were into the episode of Furt now which will continue on into the next chapter as well. I appreciate the reviews you've all given, they're really helping me with writing all of these chapters. I really liked how this one came to be because I got to dive even further into Santana's brain. It's fun to write her character. Things get a little more serious to say the least in this chapter but I think that's all apart of it. I want to convey that although Santana is usually all about the body, she cherishes her relationship with Brittany because its the closest she's gotten to anyone. She's looking for that in Puck but you know how that goes...I want to show her struggles between the two. I hope I conveyed that in this chapter. Please review especially for this one, I really need to know what you all think of it. Enjoy. **

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><p>Chapter 4. Skins<p>

When Kurt announced that the New Directions would be the star performance at his father's wedding, he was not asking; he was telling. There would be no negotiating. Everyone was expected to be there.

"I'm just so excited for my dad and Carol," Kurt gushed. "I think for the girls were going to try a vibrant scarlet red and go with the classical black for the boys."

Kurt was smiling up to his ears. I watched him clasp his hands together with glee at the idea of dressing us all. For a second, I almost felt the excitement of it all rush through me but I'm pretty sure that was just Brittany. She was sitting in the next chair over with her feet in my lap. She looked rather content as I grazed my nails over the skin of her ankles. Neither of us had brought up what happened in the park since and for some reason I was glad. I had a great time with Brittany but things got so...heavy. It was almost as if she were confronting my sexuality right then and there, and I was scared I'll admit that. I didn't want to think about it anymore.

"They're going to have a ball room set up as well for the reception," I heard Kurt say. "Finn will be taking a few lessons with me to assure he doesn't break his mother's toes on the dance floor."

I tuned that overly feminine voice out for a moment to observe Finn a couple rows down. His body was so damn stiff in that chair. His shoulders were hunched up and he was slouching as always but I noticed he never responded with more than a nod at Kurt's words. Something was off. When the creature that shall not be named grasped his hand, he relaxed in his seat. I don't understand how Rachel hobbit Berry—the polar opposite of sears tower over here—could possibly ease his tension. I mean she wasn't even putting out.

The fact that Kurt could still smile about this day amazed me. Rumors began circulating around noon that Dave Karofsky was going to be expelled for harassing the flamboyant former Cheerio. Karofsky was a real asshole and a very terrible lay if I do say so myself. Despite having been in Glee club for nearly two years, I still don't have the best rapport with Kurt but I respect his bravery. Who else could walk the halls knowing they'll probably be teased and slushied but do so anyway because they feel they have the right to. I can barely handle my position at the bottom of the pyramid right now and the fact that Quinn being head cheerleader again has slightly crippled my social status. Anything worse than that would probably kill me. I didn't even want to think of it getting worse.

In that second I felt Puck eye fucking me from the row below. I locked his gaze and held it challengingly. My mind began to reverse, back to that Saturday I spent with Brittany. The same one I spent with Puck.

_After the park, I dropped Brittany and Lord Tubbington back off at their house. It was around three o' clock when I made it back to mine and to my surprise Puck was waiting on the front porch like a wrapped up Christmas present. My father had claimed he did not know him, therefore he was not welcome in our house. I felt a little guilty about that. My dad could be an ass but I didn't blame him since Puck never got to formally introduce himself—he was always sneaking in. _

_It was strange seeing Puck there, waiting. He never waited for anything. For a moment he even looked sorry. At the time I was thinking there had to be some kind of mistake but there he was, sitting there and anticipating my arrival. I decided to finally introduce him to my dad. That did not go as well as I had hoped but at least Dr. Lopez knew Noah Puckerman. He didn't have to be a stranger anymore; a phantom that snuck into his little girl's room every other night. _

_I left my car in the driveway and took a ride with Puckerman. He told me about his shift at Sheets-N-Things and how bad Mr. Shuester's ex wife was riding him about folding at the creases. He never told me about his day. This was probably the most we'd ever talked. It was weird to just talk; I was so used to our bodies doing all of that for us. For the first time in this "relationship" Puck bought me dinner in the form of burgers, fries and shakes. This was probably the most fattening meal I'd ever been offered but I found myself at ease just by the fact that he did it. We sat on the hood of his car which was parked on a hill overlooking an array of buildings. If he hadn't have scarfed down his meal within seconds and belched after finishing off his shake, this would have been romantic. I'd never been this close to him before. _

"_Your dad looks kind of scary," he said. _

"_Yeah? Well your mom kind of looks like Rachel Berry," I retorted just to shut him up. _

_The insult made him laugh. He knew I was probably right. _

_When the silence became too much, Puck looked over at me and asked, "did I do something wrong? You seemed mad earlier when I texted you." _

"_I wasn't mad," I lied. _

"_Who were you with?" He asked me then, looking straight ahead. _

_My first instinct was to lie some more. I wanted to belt out the first football player's name I could think of but I refrained. What was the point now? He already had me; he was still going to get what he wanted. _

"_If it could possibly turn you on anymore than it already does, I was with Brittany." _

_I saw him smiling out of my peripheral vision. "A date huh?" _

_He was teasing me now. I smiled too, rolling my eyes. "Yes I wanted to make you oh so jealous so that you'd wants all up on this." _

_He rested a heavy hand on my thigh. "Babe, you know I'm not the jealous type." _

_In that moment I realized his words couldn't be anymore true. I spent my time often fighting to keep the girls of Mckinley off of Puck and here he was telling me that it didn't mean shit to him. I wasn't important enough to protect. He wouldn't fight off Finn if he tried to flirt with me but he sure as fucking hell would do it for Quinn. I schooled my features then and decided not to let it destroy me. This was wrong anyway. We were talking way too much. It was much too normal and I fucking hated it. The next thing I knew, I was pulling him down to kiss me. Midas well get it over with._

"Santana," Brittany's voice sounded like an echo. I looked up to see the Glee club filing out of the room. Puck was gone. Shit, had I really zoned out for that long?

"Sorry," I mumbled, not even sure what I was sorry for.

"Come on, we've got Cheerios practice."

**xXx**

"Listen up you adolescent babies, you've got about as much grace as Sasquatch with club foot. Get your plastic asses in formation and give me some attitude," Coach Sylvester bellowed through her bullhorn.

It seemed as if we hadn't been practicing for this routine at all. The girls were sluggish and uncoordinated. Brittany and I were tired from carrying the weight of the team, literally. I fucking hated the pyramid. Quinn looked overwhelmed because the pressure was coming down with exceeding force; directly on her. Coach Sylvester was expecting her to whip everyone into fine tuned shape but these girls were just not cutting it.

"Lets go over heel stretches again since some of brainless blonde idiots can't grasp the concept," Coach Sylvester bit out.

Instinctively, I looked to Brittany to make sure she hadn't been offended. Luckily, she wasn't even looking in Coach Sylvester's direction. In fact, she wasn't looking at any of us—she was looking at the gym entrance doors as someone barely visible through the rectangular window waved. Before I could see any clearer, the person was gone. Who the fuck was that?

"Q get in formation for heel stretches, Tweedle Fake Boobs and Tweedle Dumb and that one girl with the big eyebrows will catch you," Coach Sylvester instructed.

Brittany and I formed a circle around Quinn. That Indian girl on our team—whatever the fuck her name was—joined us. Counting off in my head and out loud, all three of us helped lift Tubbers into the air on cue. Quinn thrust her left leg up high and used her left outstretched hand to hold it while keeping the other hand straight in the air in a fist. From the looks of it, I could tell Fabray's legs were strong for this. Her spankies were clearly visible from my position on the ground where I held her foot steady with the rest of the girls. I found myself wishing Coach Sylvester's had asked Brittany to be the center of this heel stretch; that would have been much more enjoyable.

"Hold it," Coach Sylvester ordered everyone. "Balance is key, _hold it._"

I made myself aware of the other teams of four out of the corner of my eye. It was clearly obvious, our team was the best because Quinn was like a statue carved out of stone up there. I'm pretty sure she was afraid of the consequences of falling. Not only would I "forget" to catch her but Coach Sylvester would probably demote her on the team for being a useless slab of failure.

Suddenly we heard a shriek and the sound of feet shuffling before a big _thud. _Cautiously, I looked over to investigate what the hell just happened. A team had toppled over and dropped their heel stretcher straight on her face. Ouch.

The coach glowered at all of them before saying, "Thirty laps ladies, an extra ten if any of you throw up."

I watched the girls begin to circle the gym in a sprint. The girl who fell on her face looked close to tears.

"And Vicki?" Coach Sylvester stopped the girl with a hand. "Don't bleed on my gym floor."

Sue Sylvester was a fucking monster.

**xXx**

We littered Brittany's bed with bags of ice and that icy hot gel stuff that burned so good. These things were going to be necessities if we planned on keeping our limbs. Not even the hot shower I took after Cheerios practice could soothe every sore tendon. Brittany and I were in a rather compromising position right now. Our legs were entangled with each others, my right over her left and vice versa. Her left leg was in my lap and my right was in hers. My fingers were kneading the back of her thigh where her hamstring was—she was doing the same to me. It totally looked like scissoring but I didn't care. Right now every muscle I had was on fire, everything ached, and my body was spent. This was a familiar routine for us. I had to be exceptionally close to her for her to massage the underside of my leg. It felt good in more ways than one.

"I can't believe that girl still ran her laps," Brittany said while placing a bag of ice on her thigh.

I shrugged, digging my fingers into the muscle of her leg. "What else could she do? Coach Sylvester would have probably beat her senseless with that bullhorn if she hadn't."

Brittany sighed loudly and placed her head back on her pillow. "This feels so good."

I tried to hide the smile forming on my face. "We should probably fuck up at practice and stay longer more often then."

Brittany closed her eyes and shook her head. "No way, I think I'd like it better if we just did this for fun."

The boldness of her words made me stop massaging her for a second but I quickly recovered without her noticing. At least I don't think she noticed.

"Want me to do your back?" I asked after a beat.

Brittany nodded eagerly, pulling her legs away from me. This was her favorite part. I leaned over and gripped the edges of her Cheerios shirt, sliding it up for her. She placed her hands up in the air and allowed me to pull it over her head to reveal a lacy blue bra. I sucked in a breath and forced my eyes up, away from her chest. She flipped over to rest on her belly and I positioned myself over her. Carefully, I hooked my index fingers under both bra straps and slid them over her shoulder and down the arm. I rubbed the icy hot gel onto my hands and began working it in circles over her back. Brittany inhaled deeply and sighed in content as the vapors burned through her skin, into her aching muscles. I cupped my hands firmly around her shoulders, massaging away her tension. This was probably my favorite part too.

Brittany's phone began ringing by her bedside. When my hands began to slow she lifted her head slightly.

"Don't even think about answering that," she warned.

"Wasn't planning on it," I assured her.

After one more ring, I couldn't fight back my curiosity about Brittany's caller any longer. The person's ringtone was set to Michael Jackson's "Bad" for christs sake. Who could be badder than me?

I took my time doing Brittany's back. My palms applied just the right kind of pressure to her spine and shoulder blades. My fingers manipulated her skin, pulling and twisting to loosen it up. The menthol vapor in the room was heavy, so heavy. Brittany was motionless underneath me and I wondered if I had put her to sleep. My fingers slowed to a crawl against her skin until I removed them completely.

"Why'd you stop?" I heard her mumble into her comforter.

My hands resumed working over her bare back. This position too, was a compromising one. If Brittany had decided to turn around, I would be straddling her waist—try explaining that one to her parents.

"I saw you staring at Puck in Glee club," Brittany said. Was it that blatantly obvious? "I'm guessing you two made up?"

I shrugged even though she couldn't see. "I guess."

There was no more to that conversation. She knew how uncomplicated things between me and Puck were; well, most of the time.

A comfortable silence took hold of the room. The only sounds made were of Brittany's sighs and my breathing. I made sure to press my hands into her lower back where some bitch had jammed her knee. Did I mention I fucking hated that pyramid?

"It's your turn," Brittany finally said.

I lifted a leg over to allow her to sit up and began discarding my own Cheerios shirt. I winced at all the moving I had to do to get it off. I laid out on her bed, face forward. Brittany came over with her thighs on the sides of my hips. I pressed my face against her pillow, anticipating her touch. My bra straps were lowered in silence. I listened to her hands rubbing together and the way the menthol wafted through the room. She placed her hands on my back and I nearly moaned at the coolness of the gel spreading through my skin. Her hands worked their way into a rhythm as the cool friction grew more intense to burning hot, relaxing my battered spine.

"So," Brittany perked up. "Guess who has a date tonight?"

With my eyes closed, I shrugged my shoulders up in disinterest and winced at how sore they still were. "You I'm guessing."

This type of conversation didn't bother me. I was used to gushing about the boys of Mckinley to Brittany and vice versa. There wasn't one boy we _hadn't _talked about; we'd done them all.

"Whose the lucky guy?" I mumbled incoherently, so distracted by her skilled hands. She was good at this; almost too good. "Phillip Marston from the football team? I don't think you've been with him yet. He's okay. Caleb from 3rd period US History? That kid is always staring at your boobs..."

"Artie," she said simply.

My words caught in my throat. As if it was possible, my skin burned even hotter. Her hands were less focused; clumsier.

"He texted me during rehearsal and asked if I wanted to meet him at Breadstix tonight," she elaborated.

Frankly, I didn't need her to explain anything. It just made this entire situation worse. I'm almost certain now he was the one I saw waving like a moron at our Cheerios practice. Oh hell that was probably him on the phone too, everyone knew the crippled loser was a major MJ fan. How did I miss that? He had his own personal ringtone, that pissed me off even more. Artie was not supposed to be an option for Brittany. I thought I had completely severed that poor excuse for a relationship when they attempted a duet together. Why the fuck did he have to chase her like that? Wasn't my fucking word good enough for him? She only slept with him so that she could manipulate his feelings and earn herself a free trip to Breadstix. At the time I was impressed with Brittany for being so cunning but now I was just straight up annoyed. What was the point of this all? What was she getting out of it? There was no competition, nothing to win, and nothing to gain, so what the fuck? She was wasting her time here.

"Why did you say yes?" I couldn't hold the question back any longer.

She lifted her body off of me and allowed me to flip over and sit up. We were both in our bras and Cheerios skirts; we shouldn't have been talking at all.

"He likes me a lot. Even after we left him at Breadstix he still forgave me and said he could never stay mad at me."

Her words stabbed me in the chest. Artie was full of shit. I'm almost certain he held a grudge against Brittany for leaving with me and Puck. He was totally manipulating her with that helpless look in his dull four eyes and that stupid fake grin he always wore when she was around. He was just trying to get laid again; God knows Brittany's the only one that would do it for him.

"Well that's nice." The sarcasm dripped off my words.

"Yeah it is," Brittany responded, completely oblivious to the bitterness in my voice.

I didn't want to bring it up, but I was compelled. "What about the park? You said you loved our sweet lady kisses Britt."

"I do," she defended quite passionately. Then I watched her face drop. "But Quinn said that kissing other people is cheating."

Okay now I was fucking pissed.

"You told Quinn about this before you told _me_? Wow Britt, great friend you are," I spat out angrily. Fuck, I had to calm down before I lost my cool. Too late. "And what are you listening to fucking Stretch Marks Fabray for anyway? She cheated on Finn with Puck for crying out loud. She's in no position to tell you what you can and cannot do."

"I didn't tell her about Artie. I just wanted to know what cheating was," Brittany defended.

"Why would you even have to ask that?"

Brittany fiddled with her hands for a moment. I knew this wasn't going to be good.

"If this," she said gesturing between us, "is cheating Santana, we have to stop it. I don't want to mess up my relationship before it even begins."

"What happened to you not wanting to change what we have?" I questioned.

"We don't have to change it," she assured me. "We just can't...do what we do together anymore."

I snorted at her poor explanation. "That means things change Britt."

Brittany looked down at her hands. I sighed and gathered my Cheerios top, putting it on over my still menthol covered back. I didn't care at this point, the stuff had rubbed in for the most part. I slid off the bed and grabbed my bag, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" She asked with a pathetic squeak; I could tell she was choking back her tears.

"Puck's."

I slammed her door on the way out.

**xXx**

"You smell like menthol," Puck's lips murmured against my skin. "I'm kind of into it."

I rolled my eyes at him and stared at his bedroom ceiling. My fucking emotions were fried at this point. I didn't want to feel what Brittany had me feeling. I'd rather be here where no one was going to hurt me because no one cared enough in the first place. On my drive to Puck's I realized the root of my problems. Out of all the people I did in my life—including Puck—Brittany was the only consistent person. Sure she was a girl and it was so blatantly gay but it was the steadiest relationship I had ever experienced. Her wanting to reenact that with Artie hurt me. It left me alone. Who would solidify my world now? Surely not this idiot on top of me.

I was mad at her. All of her words seemed meaningless now, irrelevant. At the same time, I felt disconnected from her, as if someone had cut the power off and nothing seemed to work. All I had was this warm body on top of me. This was going to have to be enough.

I wanted him to be gentler. I didn't want his nails digging so painfully into my sides. I didn't want him kissing my lips until they bruised. I wanted him to take his time. I wanted his hands to roam all over me, appreciating every part. I wanted him to fold his arms around me and kiss my hair just to make me smile. But this was Puck we were talking about. Suddenly I wished we were back on the hood of his car, eating hundreds of calories and just talking to each other like we were people.

While still planted underneath Puck, I reached over to grab my Iphone which was vibrating indistinctly against his pillow. The time read 7:08, how long had I been at Brittany's? How long had I been here? My phone alerted me that I had one new text message. I had a pretty good idea of who it was from.

**From: **Britt Britt

_im sry about earlier I shouldnt have talked 2 quinn. believe me when I say ur my only tru friend san I dont want 2 have 2 miss u ill make this up 2 u I promise._

The text made me angrier at myself than anything else. Here she was trying to apologize and make things better. This wasn't even her fault. I freaked out, made her cry, and left; that was all me. She shouldn't have to clean up my mess. I bet Artie was just having a field day about all this. I imagined him sitting there at Breadstix with the smuggest look to ever grace those prepubescent boy features. I've decided I hate him. I hate his stupid looking suspenders and his saddle shoes. I hate those thick rimmed glasses he wears and his geeky comb over hair. He wasn't even her type. Maybe that's why she liked him so much. She didn't have to worry about him making an advance on her like the other boys at school. He was safe. I shouldn't even be rationalizing this. I still fucking hate him.

"What's up with you?" Puck asked me from what felt like a million miles away. "You're like a cold fish right now."

I looked down at him blankly. His arms were wrapped around my waist and he was leveled with my chest so he had to crane his neck to meet my eyes. I gave him my best smile and ran a hand over his mohawk.

"I'm fine I swear," my voice was unconvincing. I tried harder. "I just hate being on the bottom. You know that."

My words dissolved the concern—or at least I _think _that was concern—out of his eyes. He was flipping us over in seconds so that I could straddle his waist. His eyes were ogling every inch of me. I planted a forceful kiss on his lips; I wanted to bruise him too. My nails scraped over his chest underneath his shirt; I wanted to leave a scar. I never took the time to kiss his jaw or whisper in his ear. I appreciated nothing. I took everything. In my time spent on top of Puckerman I came to the conclusion of two things. One, I was the most selfish person on the planet. Two, I was going to have Brittany again, whether Artie allowed me to or not, I was going to have her.


	5. Butterflies

**Author's Note: This chapter was unbelievably long. I can't even believe I managed to find a place to finish it because I just wanted to keep going. But I didn't want to leave you guys out in the cold so I forced myself to stop somewhere. There's a little bit of everything in this one. From Santana's thoughts to a little canon, a Puckerman encounter, and some Brittana. I enjoyed writing it all despite how long it took to finish. And just for the record all typos were on purpose. I haven't started on the next chapter yet but I have an idea of where it should go so hopefully it works out. In the mean time enjoy this. Review, tell me what you honestly think. I appreciate all of the people reading this story. You're making it thrive. Enjoy. **

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><p>Chapter 5. Butterflies<p>

She was punishing me for what happened in the park. I just knew it. I should have just told her it was a date and pretended that we were important or that I liked it way more than I said because now she had found someone who wasn't afraid to admit it. She just wanted some kind of reassurance that I gave a shit. In some fucked up, discreet way, she wanted me to say it mattered—even just a little. Why didn't I see this before? She wanted my fucking attention and I blew it with my insecurities. I wasn't gay so what the hell was I so worried about? Sure I kissed her there and it seemed fine but I still couldn't put it into words. All she wanted was my words. My easy fucking words. Why couldn't I just do that? Yeah it was a push for me but at least I could keep her for just a little longer. Yes, a little longer. I was waiting for the day she'd run. I knew she would see just how useless it was to put her faith into me and she'd leave. She'd find someone that could navigate that complex and meaningful labyrinth she called her mind and she would take off. I wouldn't be the one who knew her best anymore. I wouldn't be her comfort—she'd have the real thing. Artie wasn't worth running away for. She deserved a much better guy and until she found that, she had me. We had talked about this. In spite of all this warm body picking, we would eventually stop. It was just a test. It had become blatantly obvious how bad the boys of Mckinley High failed to meet our criteria and so we agreed to bide our time with each other until we didn't have to anymore. I wasn't ready to stop, so why was she?

Brittany was like a butterfly—bright, graceful, and just hands down beautiful. One day she landed on me. My first instinct was to swat her away. She seemed like a nuisance; a pesky insignificant insect. But then I began to recognize her poise and the way she clung to my skin so loyally. After a while, I _loved _having her there. I gloated at the fact that she'd chosen to settle on me. And then the reality hit me that there was no way to prevent her from flying away. I panicked at first. What was I going to do? She could fly away at any moment and I would never be able to catch her before she touched the sky. With an idea in place, I cupped a hand around her. My logic was that I was protecting her from the other animals and insects that occupied our world. Nothing could swallow her whole. Nothing could clip her wings. She was _mine_. Until one day she began struggling against my hand. I didn't understand it; I was protecting her, why would she fight against that? In one fell swoop she slipped right through my fingers; already on her way to another hand. The abandonment killed me. I wasn't her favorite perch anymore. My biggest mistake was not trying to protect her. I failed because I never allowed her to showcase her brilliance partly because I didn't want anyone else to recognize it.

I made it a point to show Brittany this didn't matter—like in her bedroom that day when I told her the only reason we were even making out was for the simple fact that Puckerman was in juvie. A part of me wanted to take a punch at her ego. That same part of me didn't want her to figure out she had something worth caring about. I was so afraid of someone else seeing it and taking it away from me. I was so fucking selfish. What kind of friend _was _I? I constantly beat Brittany down just so she wouldn't end up leaving me to find new friends and people in her life that knew she mattered. How was she ever going to find a good guy with a bitch like me around?

I realized I was doing a lot of reflecting. In the haven of my brain, I was safe to criticize myself but it's a lot easier in here than in the real world. I want to stop hurting her, I really do. But I don't know how to stop that part. This is me: I'm selfish, I'm honest (most of the time), and I'm so fucking flawed in my methods. My "protection" was hurting her. My protection fucking sucks. Who am I really protecting, me or her? I realize why she doesn't stop me from brain fucking myself every time I see Puck. She assumes that's what I want. As wrong as Puck could be for me, my actions prove he's significant in some way. Despite his attitude and who he is towards her, Brittany allows me to be happy with him because she thinks it's what I want. Why can't I be happy like that for Artie even if he isn't completely good enough? I guess it just hits back to home, I'm just so fucking _selfish. _Santana gets what Santana wants. Yeah well maybe Santana needs to grow the fuck up. Easier to say in the crevices of my brain than in the real world huh?

In the real world I'm watching Brittany from a couple rows up in Glee club. I realize since she and Artie are together now they'll be spending an abundant amount of time in the first row because of his wheelchair. That's an abundant amount of time away from me. We haven't spoken to each other in a couple days now since I left her house that night. After that text she sent me at Puck's, there have been at least a dozen more. I never replied to one. I wish I could just shove my pride into a cage like a bellowing lion. I'll admit, I am deeply disappointed in my behavior thus far but it is something I just don't feel is changeable right now. We're going over numbers to sing at this wedding and it seems as if Kurt and Mr. Shuester are experiencing some kind of Bruno Mars boy crush. Typical for Kurt, not so much for Mr. Shuester whose example of a good modern day soundtrack is KC and the Sunshine Band. He's got to lay off of that funky town shit.

In the real world I'm wearing my best poker face. My posture is confident and undisturbed. From an outside view, you couldn't tell the difference between me being in the midst of crushing my enemies into the floor or unraveling to the ground like a ribbon; they looked the same. I wore one expression—don't fuck with me. The Glee club was avoiding this malevolent storm I was harboring. No one bothered to occupy my row. They could sense something in the air today and it wasn't good.

"For the aisle entrance we're going to pair everyone off so that at the very end we can introduce my dad and Finn's mom Carol," Kurt explained from his chair.

Mr. Shuester was nodding thoughtfully with a hand on that two headed chin of his.

"Lets begin then," Mr. Shuester decided. "For the pairings we've got Tina and Mike—"

"Rachel and Finn," Kurt interjected with an eye roll.

"Quinn and Sam," Mr. Shuester went on. Quinn beamed and Froggy Lips reached over to take her hand in his. They were sickeningly normal.

"Brittany and Artie," Kurt suggested with a shrug. I watched Tina down below tilt her head at his words. Someone obviously hadn't clued her in just yet...

"Santana and Puck," Kurt called off, looking briefly up at me with a tentative smile. I couldn't muster one back.

"Mercedes and..." Mr. Shuester stopped short. An awkward silence fell over the choir room. Nobody had really put much thought into Wheezy's partner. That black kid—Matt or whatever—usually took care of that for us. But he was gone now so who would we pair her up with?

"Me!" Kurt chimed in energetically.

Everyone in the room relaxed at once with a slump of their shoulders and a sigh on their lips. The pairings were complete which meant we were just one step closer to wrapping this wedding up. Between classes that I rarely attended, Cheerios practice, tanning, Glee club rehearsals, and sexting Puckerman; wedding planning was a serious burden that took a large quantity of time out of my schedule. Okay, not really. I just didn't want to be here right now. If it hadn't have been for Kurt relying so heavily on us to make this work, I would've ditched a long time ago. Glee club was no fun without Brittany to play along with. Nothing was really fun without Brittany.

"Brittany." My ears perked up at the mention of her name. Mr. Shuester was staring at the blonde from his spot in the center of the room. "You and Mike will be choreographing the New Directions' performance. You will also be working with each pairing individually."

"Um, Mr. Shuester if I may?" Berry raised a hand.

Mr. Shuester ground his teeth and placed his hands on his hips. "Yes Rachel?"

"I think I speak for everyone when I say that Finn and I should be the leading pair during our performance. We are just such an iconic duo when it comes to things like this. Having us as an opener to the show would really emphasize the greatness of being in love in your younger years _and_ past your prime."

The entire room scoffed.

"And I thought _I_ was the arrogant one," Quinn quipped.

Finn looked embarrassed. Kurt looked annoyed.

"News flash Rachel this isn't sectionals, it's a wedding. _My_ dad's wedding," Kurt corrected her. "If there's anyone whose going to choose who the leading couple will be, it's me. And for the record? There are other people in this room who are in love too, the world doesn't just revolve around your planet of a head."

Rachel smiled back, undaunted. "We don't have to be at sectionals to know what people want to see Kurt. Finn and I are two of the best duet partners here. Your dad's guests will be thanking you for starting off with such a powerful performance from two powerful singers—"

"Just can it Rachel." I had expected that from Mr. Shue but to my surprise it was Finn who had said it.

All eyes were on the couple now. A breeze of hostility was wafting through the air. Rachel quieted almost immediately at Finn's sternness. I was actually kind of impressed. Way to snap at your leash a little Finnocence.

"Okay," Mr. Shuester interrupted the awkward pause and inserted his own awkward laugh. The tension was still evident. Finn didn't bother to look at Berry anymore. I smirked to myself. I liked the way things were going. I didn't have to sit around watching the couple make googly eyes at each other all period. I obviously wasn't the only one who was pissed off about something.

"We're going to cut this meeting a little short. Next time Mike and Brittany will work with everyone on their dancing," Mr. Shuester concluded.

"Or lack of," Mercedes commented, glancing over at Finn with a friendly smile that touched her chocolate brown eyes. Finn attempted a smile back.

Mr. Shuester pursued his lips. "See you tomorrows guys."

The room dispersed quickly. Brittany took the opportunity to scan up the rows and look at me. Her stare froze me into a standstill. Her gaze was meaningful, almost apologetic. Not knowing how to respond, I averted my eyes and started down the rows. Artie was still in the room but I decided to brave another glance at her anyway. Her eyes lit up in the slightest when I caught her staring again. I begged myself to smile or say something—anything. But with Artie right there, I couldn't bear to make her think this was all okay. Instead, I turned my back to her and left.

Conversations buzzed all around me in the hall; from Jew Fro interviewing a couple of Cheerios about their choice in lingerie to Kurt and Mercedes talking excitedly about dress fittings. For once, I had no one of my own to talk to. No one here to link their pinky with mine. No one to ask me what I was doing after school or when they should come over. My first instinct was to find Fabray in this sea of bodies. Although I wasn't too fond of her at the moment, she was an almost bearable Brittany replacement. But even she wasn't around now. And where the fuck was Rachel Berry? She was no where to be seen. There was Finn off to the side, leaning on his locker but where was Rachel? Who was I supposed to direct all of my animosity towards now? Just then I realized I was missing my bag. I was almost sure I had left it in Glee club. I halted and turned back in the direction of the rehearsal room. The door was open when I made it back to the room. To my surprise, Rachel Berry was leaned against the piano inside talking with three other girls from Glee club, one of them being Brittany. I crossed my arms and pressed myself against the frame of the door listening to what seemed to be a heated conversation about Dave Karofsky.

"We're all lucky enough to have boyfriends on the football team," Berry bragged. Tina shot Brittany at confused look. "I say we band together and demand that they confront Karofsky."

"Okay first of all I'm not dating Sam," Quinn spoke up. Right, sure you aren't Q. "And second of all I think you've personally just set the feminist movement back fifty years."

"Look, guys like Karofsky only respond to muscle—"

"So we're going to fight violence with violence?" Quinn interjected.

"No," Rachel disagreed hastily. "Look, I'm not saying that they should hit him, what I'm saying is we need to defend Kurt and there's strength in numbers."

I didn't understand Berry's motives. Not too long ago she had made it clear to Kurt that she wanted to be the center of attention at the wedding. And now here she was defending him? Manipulation was in the air I was almost sure of it; I just didn't think Berry had it in her. Sure Rachel—a product of two gay men—respected Kurt in his sexuality but that wasn't all this was about. This was her way of getting back on Finn's good side.

"I'm confused," Tina admitted as she turned to Brittany. "Are you and Artie officially dating now?"

I held my breath.

"Deal with it," was Brittany's answer. Tina was a little taken back; as was I.

I made my way across the room then, not willing to hear anymore. I tuned out Brittany's conversation with Tina as she asked if it was normal for Artie to just lie there while they made out. I don't know what disturbed me more: the fact that she really just asked that or the fact that they had already started hooking up again.

"Why didn't you tell me we were having a Glee girls meeting?" I asked Berry with a pointed look. I felt Brittany's eyes snap onto me the instant I spoke.

Rachel turned to me. "This is for Glee girls with boyfriends. We're going to make them stop Karofsky from bullying Kurt."

The isolation I felt from the rest of the girls in that moment stung me. Glee girls with boyfriends. What made me and Puck's relationship so different?

"Okay I'm dating Puckerman," I informed them. It was the truth...sort of.

"You're getting naked with Puckerman," Quinn's voice was matter of fact.

I couldn't stop myself from glaring down at her. I take back what I said about her being a bearable Brittany replacement. Right now, I wanted to rip that ponytail off of her head and shove it down her throat.

"Besides Puck can't mess with Karofsky he's on probation," Tina reminded us. "If he gets in a fight with him he'll be sent to juvie."

"Mhm, yeah so now if you'll excuse us," Rachel responded with a dismissing look in her eye.

I scowled at her. "You're so on my list dwarf."

And she was. She so fucking was.

**xXx**

I couldn't believe I was crying in the Mckinley High parking lot in my car. As soon as I slammed the door shut tears sprang freely from my eyes. They were tears of sadness, anger, and just plain confusion. Who would've thought a simple sentence like 'this is for glee girls with boyfriends' would have set me off like this. I schooled my features well back in the rehearsal room. It seemed as if I had been backed into a corner by the hobbit, Fabray, and Tina. What hurt the most was Brittany saying nothing at all. I guess I deserved that didn't I? She was just returning the favor. God, how did our relationship get so...bitter? I guess I should be asking myself how I got to be this way. After all, I was the reason it was all so shitty.

For the first time in my life, Berry had me on this one. She had a real boyfriend—not some guy who only texted you when he wanted to stick it in. A _real _boyfriend who would take you out to the movies and share his candy with you. A boyfriend with no motives behind his actions, he just did things because he wanted to. But there was such a difference between thinking you wanted something and finally having it. I did the boyfriend thing. It was all so underwhelming. The only time I found myself enjoying any normal activities like sharing candy at the movies was with Brittany. Brittany made everything the norm—like our sweet lady kisses, she made that normal for me. I missed that. I missed the simplicity of her. She made everything so light.

Quinn's words tore me the most back there. She openly rubbed her _successful _relationship with Puck in my face by demeaning our currently fragmented one. I braved a scowl at her in that moment but it honestly hurt, badly.

I jumped at the quick knock on my car door window. I looked up to see it was Noah standing there with a hood over his head. It took me a second to realize it had started to rain. I unlocked his door and he climbed inside. In the car, I was overwhelmed by his strong cologne and masculine scent—and maybe a little bit of alcohol. My hand flew up instinctively to my face to wipe away any excess tears; luckily they had all dried.

"What are you sitting all alone for?" He asked me with an amused look.

"Just thinking," I told him softly. That was mostly true.

I studied his face—every angle, every crease, every expression line. He was a beautiful guy. I understood how Quinn fell in love—if she really did. I understood why I cared so deeply for him somewhere deep in my soul. His eyes were harsh but there was also something gentle there that no one got to touch. We were one in the same with that. I wondered if Quinn had touched that part of him. Maybe that's why he was still so in love with her. Just thinking about that hurt me a little more.

"You're sort of shivering," he gestured towards me. "You sure thinking in a cold car is reasonable?"

I hadn't noticed it was freezing in the car until he called it to my attention. The rain had chilled the air and I was only wearing my Cheerios uniform; I'd left my jacket at home. I reached forward and cranked up the heat. He looked a little happier and made himself comfy by leaning his seat back. When he noticed my rigid posture remained, he laid a warm, heavy hand over mine.

"You okay?"

I tried to listen hard to his question; wondering if that was actual concern in his voice I was hearing or if he just thought he should ask the question since I wasn't exactly jumping his bones yet.

"Yeah," I replied breezily. "Always."

"You just seem a little off..." he let the sentence linger and began rummaging through his hoodie pocket. "Here, this should loosen you up."

He passed a silver flask in my direction. Of course.

I turned the flask over in my hand. "What's in it?"

"Jack Daniels," Puck responded with a sense of pride. "The good stuff."

I unscrewed the cap and shrugged. "What the hell." With that I tilted back the flask. The liquid was room temperature from being in Puck's hoodie but it burned like hell going down. The alcohol sloshed in my stomach, a sour feeling taking over there. My face was scrunched up from the taste.

Puck watched me with amused eyes before taking the flask back. "I'll show you how the pros do it."

He took a long swig from the flask. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. It was kind of sexy. In fascination, I watched him drink the stuff as if it were water before pulling away and whooping. I could tell it had burned him too but like me he often schooled his features to show exactly what he wanted people to see.

I relaxed against my seat, leaning it back like Puck had earlier. With the sound of rain pattering against the glass and the breeze of the heat blowing on my knees, everything was just fine.

"You're looking better already," Puck insisted as he squeezed my hand.

I rolled my eyes. "Just give me the flask Noah."

He handed it over wordlessly this time. I took another drink, forcing my throat open to accept the incoming liquid fire.

"Not too much," Puck warned. "I've already been making it through the day with this. There's no way I'll be driving us home."

I scoffed at him. "So is that why you came over here? I'm not anyone's designated fucking driver."

He rolled his eyes at me now with exaggeration. "Course not. I was just making sure you were okay."

That sounded like the alcohol talking.

"And I told you I was fine," I said before tilting the flask to my lips again—just to spite him.

"You did not look fine," he spoke his words carefully—he was trying hard not to slur. "What were you thinking when I came?"

I shrugged, clutching the flask still. "Berry's trying to rally up the Glee girls so that they can get their boyfriends to get Dave to back off of Kurt. It's stupid really. She's not even really friends with Kurt, they're always competing."

Puck sighed, motioning for me to hand his Jack Daniels over. I let my head loll back against the seat. A familiar buzz was coming over me but I forced myself to focus.

"She should be rallying up the girls," Puck admitted. I looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate. He took one more swig and then said, "that means less stress on Kurt to make the wedding happen."

"You're actually excited about the wedding?" I asked in disbelief.

"I think it'll be cool," Puck affirmed while watching the rain pound my windshield. "Free booze is always good."

I smiled at that. Puck was always a little narrow minded. "Either way it wouldn't have stopped you from bringing Mr. Daniels with you."

"True," Puck said with a smirk.

His pupils were dilating and I could tell from the one worded responses he was giving me he was slipping into a deeper realm of intoxication. I sighed in content. Here we were just being people again. We weren't talking about relationships and so it didn't hurt as much but my loose tongue slipped then and my impulse to ask the question took over. This question was on my subconscious.

"Why aren't we exclusive?"

He glanced at me. "What?"

"Why aren't we dating?" I asked him.

Puckerman bit down on his lip, suppressing a smile. "Santana, the last time we dated you broke up with me over my credit scores being too low. I don't think we're exactly dating material."

A laugh escaped my lips. "I did? I don't even remember that."

Puck dropped his facade and joined me laughing. "Yeah, you were a feisty sophomore. Kind of bitchy but you know," he shrugged. "You get what you get."

Puck had never been more right. You get what you get; don't try to take more than you're receiving and don't settle for less than you're being given. That was my problem all along. I took way too much. A sadness washed over me at this realization. I took more than I ever gave back.

"Do you think I'll ever stop?" I asked while looking down at my hands in my lap. His hand was still on mine. It looked a little out of place.

It took him a moment to respond but he did. "Stop what?"

"Being a bitch."

"Nah," he stated simply. "That's just...a part of you. It always has been. You're really, r-really blunt; others will deal. That's the part of you I like best."

I nodded silently. I wasn't sure if I should take that as a compliment.

"I don't want people to hate me," I admitted in a meek voice.

"Come onnn," he was slurring now. "You're...you're Santana Lopez, no one could r-really hate you. Fear you maybe, but never hate you."

"Do you fear me?"

He was quiet for a second. That was enough of an answer for me. "Sometimes," he admitted with a loose tongue. "Do I scare you?"

"No," I told him honestly. "You don't scare me at all Puck."

I looked down to see him removing his hand from mine. I wanted to say I missed the contact but not really. My hand was beginning to sweat.

"Santana Lopez just thinks...she thinks she's just flearless," Puck mumbled incoherently. "But you're not. You are scared."

I glared at him now, challenging him. "And what would I have to be scared of?"

"Our threesome," he told me with closed eyes, trying hard to form the number with his fingers but gave up quickly when he put out a four instead. "It wasn't Brittany who wasn't into it Santana. It was you."

I panicked for a mere second before regaining my control. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Puck exhaled irritably. The alcohol was strong. "The look on your face while it was happening...it wasn't really you. I've...I've neber seen you look so unsure."

"Puck you're drunk, I don't know what you're talking about."

And I didn't. I hadn't thought I displayed any emotion back at Puck's house that night—or at least I was too buzzed now to remember.

"It's the truth," Puck insisted, placing a clammy hand on my thigh, swaying a bit. "You looked like you were about to have a pranic attack. What were you so scared of?"

"Nothing," I said through gritted teeth.

Even as a drunken mess he must have caught the venom in my voice because he shut his mouth. His breathing was growing heavy in the car and I cracked his window to give him a stream of fresh, wet air. We paused and just listened to the rain hitting asphalt. The parking lot was empty now; I wondered how much time had passed. I nearly forgot Puck was in the car when he asked me a question. This must have been on his subconscious as well.

"Why were our kisses so different?"

I looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Your kiss with Brittany was different than ours," he explained.

I sighed. "Puck seriously, you're drunk. It was just a kiss. It was identical to ours...nothing changed," I added that last part for reassurance.

"No," he said with a sense of determination and his hand squeezed my thigh a little harder. "No. I saw it all happening. It was different. The way you held onto her, it was different."

Our conversation had taken a turn for the worst. Each word was dark and potentially damaging if we said too many. We were stuck inside an invisible web of tension now; and I wanted out.

"We're best friends Puck," I reminded him sternly. "Things are bound to be a little different." I licked my lips and decided to add, "it's not like she's my girlfriend or something."

I waited, allowing the suggestion of my words to plant themselves inside his hollow little skull. After thinking it over, Puck shook his head up in a nod. I smiled a little, satisfied that that had been taken care of.

"Let me get you home, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed. "Okay."

**xXx**

After watching an intoxicated Noah Puckerman stumble up the front porch to his house and heave into his mother's flower pots, I went home. The storm was still raging by the time I got there and the dark sky was often illuminated by random streaks of lightning. I pulled my car into the garage, grateful that I wouldn't have to put up with the wet weather. My house was partially filled tonight with my mother on the living room couch. I tiptoed into the darkened room to check on her. The T.V. was blaring and her head was tilted back. She had nodded off. I disappeared out of the living room to retrieve a blanket from the hall cupboard. I laid the blanket over my mother's lap and proceeded to turn the T.V. off before kissing her dark hair.

I stripped out of my Cheerios uniform the second I reached my bedroom. Before I could reach into my dresser to grab some clothes, I noticed an oversized t-shirt and a pair of cotton sweats folded neatly on my bed. I smiled to myself. Only my mother. Once I slipped into my pjs, I nestled myself under the covers of my bed. My head was still a little disoriented and I probably should have waited before driving home but I just needed to get here. My conversation with Puck unnerved me. He recognized my change in behavior towards Brittany and I was hoping to God he either believed what I told him or was too drunk to even remember bringing it up. I mean really, was it that obvious?

A thunderous crackle rolled off in the distance. I shook involuntarily at the booming sound. I hated thunderstorms. They were way too powerful and often reminded me of how small and insignificant I really was. Thunder was entirely unpredictable—you never knew when it was coming. It was something that was completely out of my control and I hated that. Brittany knew how much I hated the storms. Often times like this in the summer she'd scoop me up in her arms and allow her palpitating heart to put me to sleep. I fell for it every time. I trained my eyes on the left side of my bed; her favorite side. An ache ran through me. I missed my friend. Days without her were agonizing because she filled so much of me. Without her there, my insulting remarks weren't always on point, I wasn't half as confident, and I wasn't nearly as happy. I missed her being so close. I missed her touching me. I missed all of the comfort and normality she brought with her.

I found my phone in the mess of covers I had created. I still had four new voice mails that I never bothered to listen to. I knew they were all from Brittany but I had been purposely ignoring them. Now was the perfect time to stop. Her voice was all I had tonight. With the howl of the wind and rain battering my windows, I'd never felt so alone. I selected a voice mail from my Iphone and made sure to turn the speaker on. I waited, listening for her voice.

"_It's Britt. You're still not answering my texts. I really miss you. I was planning on calling you sooner once I got home but then Lord Tubbington sat on my phone and it kind of got lost in the creases of his fur. Sorry San. I hope to talk to you soon. Bye." _

The message was followed by a distinct beep. Another rumble from the sky. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm the snapping nerves under my skin. I played another.

"_Hi, it's me again. I hate feeling like I'm bothering you but at least answer the texts San. They don't even really require talking. It's like moose code but you type the code instead of banging on stuff. Tina taught me all about that. She's super smart. I'm still confused on whether she's Asian or Korean—what's the difference? Santana just call me back. Bye." _

A smile played on my lips. I was beginning to feel better. I selected the next message. It was from last night.

"_So it's getting late and it's way past my bedtime but I wanted to tell you what happened tonight. I was watching So You Think You Can Dance at Artie's and this girl came out on stage. She was like a hybrid of us San. She had my moves and my eyes and your skin and your hair. If we had a baby, she'd be what it looked like. She moved on to the next round too. Artie didn't understand what was so amazing about her but I did. She was us, up and down. I mean she even shared your cattiness which was what I loved most. I was proud of her because she represented us so well. I'm still proud of us too Santana. I'm proud of you. Call me when you're ready. _

My cheeks flushed a deep, tomato red. Something about the way she said she was proud of me made every ounce of anxiety I carried dispel from my body. I should have been angry over the fact that she had been over at Artie's watching _our _favorite show, but some how Brittany managed to completely extinguish the fire that was brewing there. The baby comment was so random it made me laugh but it was still so adorable. That was Brittany for you; randomly cute.

The rain was beginning to fade and the thunder had retreated. One message left. I dreaded pressing that button. Whatever was in this message was something final because she never bothered to send anymore out. The date on the message showed that it was from today at 11:30 am. I pressed the button.

"_I'm sitting in the girl's bathroom in one of the stalls. I just watched you make your way on to trig. You didn't even look twice at me. Can we stop fighting now? I think we're past this. Have you gotten it out of your system?" _

I continued to listen. She had paused in her message but I could hear her breath against the speaker of the phone. When she spoke again she sounded more than just broken; she was severed in two.

"_What is it Santana? Did I do something wrong? I thought we'd talked about this. Isn't this what I'm supposed to be doing? Finding a decent and actual _boyfriend_?_ _This is what we've both wanted. Your silence is killing me Santana. Artie isn't you, okay? Is that what you want me to say? He's not my best friend and he never will be. He's close but he'll never be able to compete with our friendship. I want you to be happy for me. Be proud of _me_. I miss you sleeping over and I miss us talking until we can't keep our eyes open anymore. Don't forget me because of Quinn or Artie or even _Puck. _I'm your best friend. Please don't ever forget me. I love you. I'll see you in rehearsal today. Please don't turn your back this time. Bye. _

A heaviness impacted my chest. Tears threatened to spill from the corners of my eyes. My fists were balled in my sheets. I was struggling with this emotion of guilt. _Please don't turn your back this time. _I had. I had turned my back without a care. That's why she stopped calling and texting. I'd fucked this up all over again. I had to stop this. This wasn't even about what I wanted. If Brittany wanted to spend her time getting wheelchair rides to class from Stubbles, I couldn't hold her back. As much as it hurt. As much as I wanted to cup my hand around my little butterfly and keep her safe, I couldn't do that. If I let her go, she'd come back. Right?

I thumbed through my list of contacts and found the B I wanted. I pressed down firmly on my screen and began a new call. The line rang out steadily. Two rings, still no answer. Three. Maybe I should hang up. Four rings. Nothing. Five—

"Hi," Brittany answered in a low voice. She knew it was me. My picture had probably popped up the second her phone rang.

I hesitated. I hadn't expected her to answer. I was actually hoping to leave a quick message that I was sorry. I wasn't prepared for this. Not at all.

I opened my mouth and then shut it again. I hadn't planned on what to say.

"You don't have to talk," Brittany assured me softly. It was as if she could feel my struggle. I relaxed just a little. "I'm just glad you called."

I breathed in, sucking any remains of courage I had into me and then said, "me too."

There was a pause and some movement. It sounded as if she were relocating. A door closed.

"Did you get all of my messages?" She sounded louder now, echoing.

"Yeah," I told her. "I got all of them. Where are you?"

"I'm at Artie's, sitting in his bathroom. I'm about to leave soon."

I didn't respond immediately because I couldn't trust that I wouldn't say something mean.

"Do you need me to come get you?" I asked cautiously.

"No, I'm okay. You could meet me there, at my house I mean."

"Sure," I nodded into my phone even though she couldn't see. "I'll wait outside."

"Santana, waiting outside is for the dogs. Just have my mom let you in and go up to my room. The storm looks like it's coming back."

I smiled until my cheeks hurt before saying, "I'll see you when you get home."

**xXx**

Being in Brittany's room showed a sharp contrast between us. While her bedspread was sprinkled with colors and her walls were layered with happy pictures and personality; my bed was sunken from large amounts of sex and my walls were as impersonal and monotonous as I felt in there. Of course when Brittany came she some how engulfed the room in a plethora of light.

Not much had changed about Brittany's room in the last few years. This was her innocence pouring through the cracks of my grimy, dirt filled fingers. It almost looked wrong for me to be lying on the bed of such a naïve soul. But she wasn't always naïve.

I heard the footsteps bounding up the stairs, slowly. I had been waiting for about twenty minutes now. I straightened up my posture on her bed and waited some more. The footsteps drew closer until the door creaked open. Brittany stepped into the room wordlessly, giving me a smile. This time—the first time today—I smiled back at her. It wasn't as hard. I watched Lord Tubbington approach Brittany and roll his body along her ankle. She reached down and scratched under his chin for a moment before coming over to sit on her bed.

"Were you waiting for long? She asked me.

I shook my head at her in a no. Twenty minutes was nothing now that she was here. The air stilled. We studied each others faces. She was still dressed in her Cheerios outfit and I had changed into a grey cardigan to keep me warm. I'd kicked my boots off to the floor out of comfort. She broke eye contact with me to stand and began unzipping her way out of her Cheerios skirt. She paused when I took in a breath. Realizing I was holding it I exhaled and she continued to undress. I forced my eyes away to stare at the ceiling for a while. I heard her open a drawer and then close it. Before I knew it she was crawling back onto the bed in a white, long sleeved thermal shirt and blue pajama bottoms.

"How did you make it this far through the storm?" She was referring to me managing through the thunder without her. I could see her looking at her hands, not willing to touch me yet because she was still unsure.

One side of my mouth turned up in a smile. "I didn't. That's why I'm here."

Brittany grinned back, showing her perfect teeth. "Glad I could be of service."

Her hand reached out now to play with the ends of my sweater. She leaned in and placed a quick kiss at the tip of my ear. That same spot began to burn from me blushing. Brittany kissed it again just because she could.

"Britt?" I called out tentatively.

"Hm?"

"I just...I just wanted to say..." I struggled with that five letter word. I didn't get to say it often. "Well what I need to say is that—"

"I know Santana," she said, nodding. "I know you're sorry. I knew the minute you called."

I turned my body into her, propping an elbow up on her pillow and letting my head rest in my hand. "And you forgive me just like that? Even though I stormed out of here like some...jealous psycho boyfriend?"

I hadn't expected to say jealous psycho boyfriend but it was the only way to describe my behavior.

"I'll always forgive you Santana. It's what I'm good at." Her eyes were locked onto mine intensely. She meant every word. Her face softened a bit after a second. "Besides, I don't mind having a psycho jealous boyfriend every once in a while. It's just another way to prove I have the best in my corner."

With that she used her index finger to tap me lightly on the nose. I smiled again for the millionth time since I spoke to her that day.


	6. If I Wanted To Cuddle I'd Buy A Teddy

**Author's Note: This chapter felt long as hell when I wrote it mainly because another part is supposed to go along with this but I ended up cutting it at where I left it here for now. So technically, the next chapter is already half written so that means it'll be faster to update, yes? Anyways, in this chapter I wanted to focus a little on the changes of Brittany and Santana's relationship through their years with a little flashback. A significant flashback for Santana I suppose. (There is some adult things in this chapter but I honestly couldn't bother with smut for Santana's bit because well...it wasn't Brittany so yeah. You get me). Anyway this chapter expresses Santana's feelings toward Brittany and how their relationship with each other has changed since they started their sweet lady kisses. I feel like as I'm writing this story there are many types of Santana to be displayed (there's the bitchy one, the sweet one, the horny one, the manipulative one, etc) which is fun to write because when I write Santana I like to try and relate to everything she is going through to better understand her. Enough ranting about it lets read it. Also, I want to thank allll of you wonderful people for reviewing this story! Your reviews are encouraging and really nice to see. And thanks for alerting this story and following. Keep up the support guys. Enjoy. **

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><p>Chapter 6. If I Wanted To Cuddle I'd Buy A Teddy Bear<p>

I was at the mercy of a siren. Her legs seemed to elongate further than I'd ever seen before. She was featherlight on her feet, so weightless she could have floated away. Her hips swayed as throbbing beats of music coursed through her frame. Her arms bent and grasped the air with a lullaby on her fingertips. Every inch of her was a song. From the top of her head down to the soles of her feet; she was so free. Her body was acutely connected to the rhythm of all sound. She manipulated and molded that body into another instrument used to harmonize like music itself. It was the most beautiful thing in existence.

And then there was Mike Chang. He came scampering onto the stage with an unusual grace and slid to his knees, at her feet. He groveled there in a showmanship act of pure adoration. I don't think he was alone on that. Brittany—playing her role—peered down at him through sensually long lashes. She looked so authoritative and sexy. She had him chasing her on that stage. He fumbled after her with conviction. With that lost puppy dog look in his eyes, I half expected the Asian to start dry humping her leg out of sheer desperation. My God she knew how to move. Without much effort, her hips had put me in a trance. Her movements were hypnotically deliberate and so, so persuading. It was taking everything in me not to hop onto that stage, rip her off to the side and just fucking ravage her behind the curtains. That would be my death. That is how Brittany—the siren—would end me.

This connection we were witnessing, between two halves of rhythm itself, was not happening on a Broadway stage, but in the auditorium of Mckinley. Our best choreographers, Brittany and Mike, had been in the process of coaching us on our couple dancing for the Hummel/Hudson wedding—more emphasis on Quinn and Sam's routine than Rachel and Finn's. Rehearsal was nearing a close and the two dancer's were given the okay from Mr. Shuester to let loose on stage. Puck and I had practically zero responsibility (dance wise) at this wedding. I'm pretty sure Brittany managed that on purpose—I really wasn't feeling the whole dancing down the aisle bit; neither was Puckerman. But in celebration of the restoration of our friendship, Brittany made sure to include a short ribbon dancing sequence between the two of us. Things were great there, really, but since making up with her, it appears we're also mourning the loss of any possible action under the sheets. Despite the occasional kiss on the cheek, or the ear, or where ever she felt like kissing me, Brittany's affections were limited. I knew why and I made sure to send my evilest glower in Quinn and Artie's direction. Quinn for simply talking too much and not staying in her own fucking business; Artie for just...being Artie. They were straining our relationship and watching Brittany on that stage, dancing like _that_, made it even more difficult to behave myself. This was a battle of my willpower and how badly I didn't want to manipulate Britt. I hated having to do that. Brittany wasn't some stupid boy I could twist around my finger whenever I felt the need. I wanted her to come willingly; it was so much hotter.

I did know a warm body replacement for the time being though. But it just so happened that he got drunk in my car and wound up spurting a bunch of shit about me kissing my best friend like she had a penis and how I may have possibly loved it. I wouldn't say that I had been avoiding Puck, it was more along the lines of finding anything and everything more interesting than talking to him. Okay so I was avoiding him. Fortunately today, Puck and I had a tongue date behind the bleachers after this rehearsal. He texted me first. I couldn't help but ask him if he was doing better and he replied with "better how?". I'm still going to assume he's forgotten all about that talk in my car. He better have.

For just a second I managed to peel my eyes off of Brittany to survey the crowd in the auditorium. Kurt and Mercedes were sitting close by, marveling at Brittany's legs and how strong they were—bet they wish they hadn't quit the Cheerios so soon. I saw Finn sitting in my row with The Creature. I willed him to look to his left and after some time he did. I caught his eye almost instantly and smiled cunningly back at him. I watched him gulp in a breath and wave a hand awkwardly at me. Berry peered over his shoulder to see what he was looking at and I prepared a scowl for her. On the down low, I was in the middle of destroying that poor excuse for a relationship. Berry was going to pay for how she spoke to me in the rehearsal room. Speaking of that, her little plan actually worked. My eyes flitted over to Sam and Quinn who were on the far right end, one row down. Sam's eye had turned from a deep purple to a jaundice color in a matter of days after Karofsky punched him so hard in the locker room. A few weeks had passed since the altercation and I've got to say the act of heroism was so underwhelming without Finn there to be the main character in the story; after all he _was_ Kurt's brother to be. The part that really tickled me though was when they described how Karofsky had shoved Mike Chang into Artie, tipping over his wheelchair. The image of that just thrilled me; well until I saw Brittany that day in Glee club, rubbing his back like an infant on the verge of burping. Fucking sickening.

I've learned to keep all of my hatred bottled up for Saddle Shoes when I'm around Britt. I really don't want to make her feel worse than she usually does when I bring up their bane of existence. She seems happy enough with her decision to date Artie. God knows I will never understand why but there's something there. To be honest, it's like a fresh paper cut every time she says something remotely positive about him. After a while I just asked her to stop all together. She understood, at first, but under the condition that I couldn't talk about Puckerman either. I tried to explain that there was a plausible difference: Puck and I weren't dating each other. She wrestled me down about this for some time and I had to remind her of our favorite slogan: sex is not dating. I won the argument pretty quickly. She remembers what it was and still is like for us. We hang by a loose thread when it comes to sex. If you started fucking before you claim to be casually seeing each other, it's not really dating. Brittany likes to argue that she and Artie are still legit because she asked him out a day or two before sex. I guess that would rule Puck and I out. We hardly ever participated in those proper dates where we were expected to go places; unless you count the trips to the local Walgreen's to get condoms. I drove, he bought. Conventional relationship I'll say.

A miniscule part of me was disappointed in Britt. We ran through our high school career without the need for a boyfriend. We could have any guy we wanted. There was never a moment when we had to struggle to hold a clever conversation with them, or worry about who would pick up the bill; that was all irrelevant. Brittany was now doing everything we were against: compromising. My father, Emilio Lopez, taught me never to compromise. In my younger years, he would insist that I should only compromise when it was completely in my favor. When I often challenged him with the information that compromising was never completely in one's favor, he would smile and claim that was his entire point; never compromise. I passed this along to Brittany. At first, I had to explain what compromising was and how mutually promising anything stopped you from getting everything you wanted. Promises were too binding. In all honesty, I just didn't want her making me promise her anything. I did promise her one thing though. We shook with our pinkies on this promise back in freshman year.

"_Are you sure about this San?" A 14 year old Brittany asked me from across the couch. There was hesitation in her voice and uncertainty in her eyes._

"_You need to _relax_," I told her with a sharp tongue."We're at Alec Porter's house. One of the hottest seniors in his class. Act mature and don't embarrass me here, Britt." _

_I could tell I had wounded her with my plea. In all actuality _I _didn't want to embarrass myself. Alec was a renowned hockey star at Mckinley. When he invited Britt and I over to test out his parent's newly installed hot tub, I jumped at the opportunity. As fresh Cheerios we were still trying to prove our worth. Our captains were undeniably attractive and so very popular; I wanted that too. With Britt in tow, I was climbing the social ladder _fast. _I made myself known at house parties and often made out with older boys to show just how fun I could be. Alec recognized that fun. _

_Now here I was in his living room with a can of beer in my hands. I eagerly accepted the alcohol he provided mainly because I was actually nervous for once. I was used to being in a crowd where I didn't have to try too hard. I was thankful that Brittany had come along because she was the closest thing I had to that. I was gulping down my second disgusting beer of the night; I needed a boost of confidence. I didn't want to appear boring. Alcohol always helped, it did all the work. _

_Alec sauntered back into the living room from the patio area with a crooked smile. Tadd Hanson, a hockey teammate of Alec's, followed closely behind. They had been outside, getting the hot tub ready. It looked like we were up. _

"_It's all ours ladies," Alec declared, still wearing that cocky grin on his beautifully angled face. His hair, which came down a little past his emerald eyes, was a dirty blonde. He always looked unusually tan in the winter, despite never going to a salon. His teeth were naturally straight with two cute canines on either sides of his top row. Out of all the hockey players at Mckinley, I liked him the most. Hockey was in, the football players would have their time later in the season. _

_Outside, the air was chilly. I set my can of beer down by the ledge of the hot tub and noticed a new six pack had been brought out. My legs wobbled as I stripped down to my bikini, struggling to balance with the alcohol brewing inside of me. I watched Brittany out of the corner of my eye undress. She was wearing the lavender colored bikini I had bought her last summer as a birthday gift. For some reason that made me smile. _

_We sank into the frothing water at the same time, dispelling a long, content sigh from our lips. The boys were watching with intrigue. My breasts were still quite small but my face had matured greatly over the past few months which earned me numerous double takes. Brittany had grown a lot taller over the summer and she often appeared older than she looked. These things worked in our favor. Besides Quinn Fabray, we were two of the hottest freshmen on the Cheerios squad._

_On any other occasion, the water would have been too hot, but with the winter air whipping at my face and chest, the heat was welcomed. I separated from Britt, floating over to Alec, who was running a wet hand through his hair. When Brittany didn't budge, Tadd swam over to her side and snuck an arm behind her. The dark haired boy reached around him to pull the six pack of beer closer and pulled a can out for Brittany, handing it to her politely. I watched my best friend open the beer with a pop and sip it self consciously. I caught her eye before taking a healthy swallow of my own beer and kinked an eyebrow at her to insinuate she should relax. Understanding my method of communication, Brittany drank a little faster. I smiled approvingly at her. _

_Before I could start speculating how things were going to go tonight, Alec was pulling me into his lap. Our bodies flush together with an intense warmth due to the temperature of the water. My legs dangled off to the side and my head was growing light from all the beer I had consumed. Without even thinking about it, I leaned into Alec and placed a kiss on his neck. My lips tingled against his burning skin. He touched my bare, lower back in response and cradled me in his arms. I liked his arms. They were long and the skin was taut from the muscles that rippled through them. I liked the contact he was giving me and so I wrapped my own arms around his body. I peppered his skin with kisses now, my inhibitions were dwindling away. I pressed my body into his hungrily, I just wanted to feel him. I wanted those hands on me. I stroked his arms, chest, shorts; everything. _

"_Careful Al, that girl might just swallow you whole," I heard Tadd gibe from across the water. _

_Alec's chest rumbled with laughter. "Planning on it." _

"_Another?" Tadd's voice again. Not directed at me but to Brittany. _

"_Suure," she drawled. _

_I stopped to look over at the two of them. He was cracking open another beer for her. I couldn't remember what number she was on. She was floating in and out of focus to me. I could tell from the look in her eyes that it was beginning to happen to her too. Alec pinched the inside of my thigh playfully then and it drove me into a fit of unnecessarily loud giggles. I forced my voice down an octave before looking back at Alec. He smiled with his teeth before leaning down to capture my lips in a kiss. My brain was struggling to keep up with what my body was initiating. My hands were sliding into the legs of his shorts and shooting back out; teasing him. He had a good amount of hair on his thighs, another sign of his maturity. Most of the freshmen boys at Mckinley were still waiting on their balls to drop. Well, besides Noah Puckerman, who was actually supposed to be a sophomore. He should be next on my list..._

_Brittany's moans filtered the night air. I was sure Tadd and her were playing their own share of games. This was unbelievably normal with Brittany sitting across from me. She made this all so comfortable and safe. We could do this all the time, as a team. _

_Alec released my mouth after what seemed like hours. I was teetering on his lap. I laid my hands on his thighs for support but he took it as an advance, taking hold of my hands and placing them over his blatant erection. That part of his body sent a jolt through my back and straight into my brain where my thoughts were zapped back into focus. Sex. He wanted sex. He was looking at me expectantly and it scared me for a second. I didn't know where to go from here but I nodded at him anyway. He knew though. I knew he knew because as soon as I gave him that silent confirmation he was lifting me off of him and backing himself out of the hot tub. With the absence of his body, I struggled to find the strength to sit up properly without perching forward. I attempted to push myself out of the water but ended up nose diving back down. Two arms caught me before my face hit the scalding water. They were not taut or muscular but soft and skinny. Brittany's arms. She was holding me tightly with an unbreakable grasp. I braced myself against her, trying to find my footing again. Without her natural grace, Brittany clumsily swam me back to the edge of the hot tub to sit. _

"_I've got her," Alec told Britt before hooking one of those taut arms around my back and the other under my legs, lifting me out of the water. I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck to avoid falling. I waved goodbye to Brittany in my silly drunken haze and watched her smile before backing up in the hot tub, straight into Tadd's chest. _

_Alec carried me through his house and up the stairs bridal style. This was nice! We were married! Mr. and Mrs. Lopez-Porter. That doesn't really have a ring to it but... _

_It didn't seem like we were married now. He plopped me down on his bed and there was nothing honeymoon sweet about it. He leaned over me to untie the knot behind the nape of my neck where my bikini top was tied. The strings dwindled down and rested against my shoulder blades. I reached behind myself to unclasp the rest of the bikini from my body, discarding it onto his bed. His comforter was a mixture of light colors with intricate designs. I circled my fingers over the patterns, marveling at how complex it all was. His voice interrupted my thoughts. _

"_Undress me." _

_I looked up at him, my eyes trailing over his chest. There was nothing to really undress. He stood completely still in the darkness of his bedroom. So still I could hear the drip, drip, drip sounds as water fell from his shorts. I perched forward too quickly and wished I hadn't because the room began to spin. I shook my head slowly, trying to break this feeling of vertigo. My hands bunched around the sides of his shorts and I pulled them down. Seeing his dick made everything so real. I decided to look up into his eyes instead and what I saw there scared me. Those eyes were unfamiliar and really dark. A clear thought pushed through the fuzziness and I remembered how old this boy was. The realization hit me fairly quick that this boy had been with _a lot _of girls. He began to pull off my bottoms. Watching him skillfully open a condom wrapper and unroll it with his fingers made me realize I wasn't really sure_ _of _how_ to please him. _

_Before I knew it he was trapping me in a kiss and settling between my legs. He was pressing into me and often pausing to check my face. I didn't expect him to check my face. What if it wasn't pleased enough? I should probably smile or something. No it hurts. It hurts too much to smile about it. I pinched my eyes shut to avoid his staring. His hips rolled into mine like a wave. With that tearing feeling fading, and my brain slowing down, I was able to just feel. It was as if my conscious self had floated straight out of my body and left it there. Every thrust from him, shook my head and spun the room. It made me a little nauseous after a while but I swallowed that back. If I could just get him to finish that would be it. I would have done it for the first time and he would be able to say it was great because I liked to think that I knew what I was doing. From the looks on his face, I was doing _something _right. _

_He came with a fist full of bed sheets in his hands. I felt it but he never felt me. I never felt anything as good as what he was feeling but I never let him know that. We dressed in a silence I didn't bother to break. There was really nothing to say. However, when we made our way to the door, he caught my wrist just long enough to say, "good job." _

_Brittany and Tadd were downstairs on the couch with two towels wrapped around them, making out against the cushions. I heard Alec behind me, clearing his throat. Brittany pushed off of Tadd and sat up. _

"_Santana!" She yelled from the couch. I lifted a finger to my lips to silence her. "Oops, sorry," she whispered loudly before clamping a hand over her mouth. _

"_Give us a ride home?" I looked expectantly at Alec. _

_He shrugged his shoulders at me. "Sure." _

_**xXx**_

_Getting a drunken Brittany to my room was much more difficult than I had anticipated, especially since I could barely hold myself up. We were a mess of legs and arms as we clutched onto each other, trekking up the stairs. Thankfully, I knew my parents weren't home which was specifically why I'd asked Alec and Tadd to drop us off here. _

"_I need to call Tadd," Brittany announced. "I forgot to tell him goodbye." _

"_We just saw him," I told her; some sense flooding back into my alcohol shrunken brain. _

"_Oh yeah..." Brittany said drearily. _

"_Let's work on getting up the stairs Britt Britt, I love you but you're one tall bitch right now," the words flowed quickly from my mouth. _

_Brittany giggled and pressed her face into my neck. "I'm sorry San," she breathed out against my skin. "I should be carrying _you_...like Alec." _

_I raised my eyebrows at her words but didn't stop pulling her along. I stepped on her foot accidentally which slowed us down. My arm gripped the rail firmly for support and I managed to get us all the way up. Being in the hallway made our destination seem so far away. The hall looked sort of long to me, drawn out, infinite. I knew it was the alcohol still running through my blood and I cursed myself for not grabbing some water from downstairs before we made this trip. When we stepped into my darkened room, I imagined it was a haven. The bed was so inviting and so..._stable. _I pulled Brittany over until we both fell down on the bed. My world didn't have to spin while I spun anymore. I didn't have to worry about falling down on my hard wood floor. The bed had me. _

_We just stayed like that. Just staring up at the ceiling in the dark. I didn't want to get my light, I just wanted to stay. Brittany's pinky was linking around mine, that's all the movement she could muster. I was comforted once again. _

"_I had fun tonight," she spoke into the blackness. _

"_Same," I replied simply. My tongue wasn't allowing me to make large sentences right now. _

_I felt the bed tilt and heard a shuffle. Her eyes were on me, I just knew it. I could feel them. _

"_Did you and Alec...you know." _

_For a second, I'd almost forgot what she had asked me; I was busy getting lost in the darkness. _

"_Yeah," I answered back. _

_She didn't speak for a long time. I think she was waiting on me; waiting on me to explain it to her. _

"_Did you know you were going to?" She asked me. _

_That was an interesting question. _Did _I know it was going to happen? Did he? _

"_I don't know Britt. I guess." I shrugged my shoulders. She felt that. _

_I could make out a faint outline of her nodding her head. _

"_I saw you making out with Tadd..." I let the sentence linger. _

"_Yeah," now she answered back simply so. "He's a good kisser. We did more than kiss though." _

_I turned my head in her direction now. That had my attention. _

"_Like what?" _

_There was an intake of air from her. She wanted to say something but stopped short. I waited for her. Waited some more. _

"_I kind of gave him a blow job," she admitted in a breath. _

_Now _that _was interesting. _

"_Where did you learn how to do that?" I asked with enough curiosity to kill every cat she'd ever had. _

"_HBO," she replied nonchalantly. _

_A laugh shook my chest and she soon joined in. I could see her smiling in spite of the darkness that surrounded us. When the laughter died down, I enveloped her entire hand in mine, my thumb stroking her knuckles. _

"_What was it like?" _

_I could see her scrunching her nose up in distaste. "It was kind of gross San. I almost threw up. Tadd seemed to enjoy it but I don't think his little guy did. Honestly, who wants to be slobbered all over? That poor tortured thing." _

_I laughed even harder this time. She said this all with such genuine pity that I couldn't tell if it was really her or just the alcohol. Either way I loved it. It was shaking me back into sobriety. _

_I forced myself to stop laughing after a good long minute. Britt squeezed my fingers in hers and I reveled in that contact. It reminded me of Alec all over again. _

_A cloud of awareness smothered my brain as I scooted closer to Britt and nudged my nose against hers to make sure she was still there. I backpedaled to the middle of our night when I had scolded her and told her not to embarrass me. We'd both done some pretty mature things tonight, that part was certain. But I was not as...supportive as I should have been. I was nervous tonight and for good reason. Why was I not as sensitive to Brittany's feelings? She was bound to be in the same state of turmoil as I was. _

"_You know I didn't mean it when I told you not to embarrass me, right?" _

"_No?" She asked me in surprise. _

_I squeezed her hand. "You could never embarrass me." _

"_You act differently around other people Santana," she said this as more of an observation than anything. _

"_How so?" _

"_I don't know. You just...you're so caught up with impressing people. You have to work so hard to make them love you. And look at me Santana. _I _love you. You didn't have to try to make that happen. It just did. You don't have to try so hard." _

_Her words had paralyzed me. The truth of it all was numbing. Brittany always managed to point out the pieces you were missing; it was a talent of hers. In a group of sentences she'd managed to tell me everything I needed to hear. She would continue loving me, there was nothing that would make her stop that. I had the potential to be great, I didn't need to work myself into the ground for it. And most of all, she was letting me know I was good enough. _

"_Just...don't change for them okay? They're not worth that. Promise me." Brittany's breath was hot against my face. _

"_I wont," I assured her. _

"_Pinky promise it," she demanded while tugging on my hand. _

_I looked down in the darkness, searching for our hands. "Our fingers are already entwined." _

_She removed her hand from mine and settled for re-hooking our pinkies. _

"_Now it's a promise," she concluded with a grin. _

"_Alright then good. Now can you please stop talking? I'm trying to prepare myself for the painful hangover I'm going to wake up to." _

"_I saw some pills for hangovers in the store. It's like the morning after pill for alcoholics." _

"_I doubt that even works." _

_She began nestling her body into me but stopped. "Would..._you_ need the morning after pill?" _

"_No," I answered back briskly, cringing away from the possibility. "God no."_

"_Good. Your baby just wouldn't be as cute as ours," she said this matter of fact._

_I smiled into the darkness. I'd much rather think of having Brittany's imaginary babies than Alec's right about now. _

"_Can we stay like this forever? Telling each other everything. Laughing. Taking care of each other." _

"_We already promised we wouldn't change so it's kind of set in stone." _

"_Good," I told her. "I'd like to keep that promise then." _

"_Me too." _

The scent of Brittany's perfume reeled me back into the present.

"Panties for your thoughts," she said as she slid into the seat beside me.

My cheeks heated at her comment but I willed them to cool. "It's penny Britt. Penny for your thoughts."

"Why would anyone settle for pennies when they could have panties instead?" She asked this clearly bemused.

My eyes surveyed her appearance in one swift motion and I found myself thinking about _her _panties. Why did everything she said have to be interpreted so sexually? It was probably just because I wanted her so badly. This Brittany was much different than the girl I knew three years ago. Although she kept our promise true, she had certainly changed. This Brittany oozed the kind of sex appeal and confidence you saw in 1940s film noir where the villain is always played by a sexy vixen. She made boys like Alec Porter look like sterile puppy dogs. Sex with Brittany was so fucking personal, in your face, and so _hot. _Back then boys like Alec were as skilled as they came, but Brittany, she was an entirely new type of skilled. Over the two and a half years we spent having endless amounts of sex with the boys of Mckinley, Brittany had studied the seams that stitched the entire concept together. She could read your body and knew exactly when and where to go from there.

"You looked insanely hot out there," I blurted it out before I had time to mentally edit.

She smiled at me, clearly amused. That's how fucking confident she was. She knew she was attractive. She didn't have to be flustered. My how things have changed. Years ago I would have been obsessing over who was the most athletic senior; now days Brittany was a daily part of my thought process that I didn't mind being obsessed over. There were too many good reasons to be obsessed. Forget all of that no strings attached shit, when it came to your best friend, sex changed _everything._ It was a sharp contrast from sleeping with someone you didn't really know. I knew every inch of Brittany. Sex with her was like a branding; an official ownership of her entire core. It was not _just_ sex. It was an offering. We'd spent our time developing an ethereal relationship that took years to construct into what were looking at now. This was certainly _not _something you fucked up with meaningless sex. Just saying that makes me want to die from the sappiness of it all. But this was something I had to handle with extreme care. I had her mind from the start, but having her body? That turned the intensity of our relationship up by tenfold. Whether I liked it or not, there _were _feelings there. I was still working on how to separate that from the equation. We'd stepped into uncharted territory now. There were land mines all over this fucking place and if I wasn't careful, I'd end up losing my friend. Of course this wasn't a legitimate relationship. There was no way in hell I'd ever consider the idea of actually being gay. This wasn't about sexual orientation anyway. It was about connecting with Brittany on an entirely new level. Needless to say though, I was still scared shit less that Artie would find this part of her and steal it away. He'd had the body but now she was willing to give him her mind. That sent a searing lick of fire up my organs. I loved her mind, equally as much as I loved her body. Artie didn't deserve her. Well, neither of us really did.

"Santana, do you want to hang out tonight?" I could tell from the tone in her voice that this was the second time she was asking me. I had spaced out again. I knew there was nothing sexual about her invitation. Hanging out tonight would most likely consist of baking things and painting each others toenails at her house. That was another thing about sleeping with your best friend; things often got so blurry that you had to analyze every word to make sure it didn't mean something else. I should have known that this was a platonic invite; anything that strayed away from our usual activities was "cheating" remember?

I opened my mouth to respond but I was soon interrupted by Christopher Reeve shouting up to Brittany from his spot near the stage. She waved at him stiffly before looking at me. For a second, I could have sworn her eyes were mirroring mine in their annoyance.

"Artie and I are getting coffee after this so I should go," she explained. I nodded. She bit her lip, still unsure of my answer. "Are you still gonna come over tonight?"

"I might, I don't know. I may have plans."

I didn't have any fucking plans. I just wasn't sure if I could handle being around her for that long without having permission to actually touch her. That was the _worst _part about sleeping together. The friend stuff was fulfilling but you always wanted more now that you were sure you could have it. It was like taking a trip to the candy store every day until finally, one day, the owner puts up a sign and says were closed; despite the place still functioning. Right now, all I knew was that I needed to find Puckerman fast. My sexual frustration was bubbling over into something painful ever since Brittany began to dance. If I wasn't going to get it from Brittany, he was the next best thing.

"Text me if your plans change?" She asked, pulling herself to her feet.

I didn't want to see her go. "Of course."

I watched Brittany for approximately ten seconds. She looked over her shoulder cautiously down to Artie I presume before turning back to me. My senses were bombarded by the heavenly scent of lilacs as she tilted towards me. Her hands sank into the muscles of my thighs, setting my skin ablaze. Cool lips brushed over my already burning cheeks. I couldn't resist placing my own hands on her hips to steady her and I wish I hadn't. A fire erupted in my belly and drew straight down between my legs with such heat that I had to cross them. Brittany's lips lingered for a mere second before she withdrew her hands and body from my grasp. I attempted the most platonic smile I could muster and watched her skip away down the auditorium rows, straight into Artie's arms. I exhaled a breath I hadn't even realized I'd been holding and squeezed my thighs even tighter. Where was Puckerman when you needed him?


	7. The Jekyll & The Hyde

**Author's Note: Here we are again with a new chapter to hold you over. Firstly, I just want to thank all of you for reviewing this story again. You're all awesome and your comments mean the world to me. It delights me to know I'm doing a decent job. This chapter was really fun to write. There's a lot of feelings that are shaken up along the way and its just nice to write about it all. I named this chapter after Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde because I felt it fit with Santana's character in this chapter. She always seems to have two sides: the dominating bitch side with everyone at school and then the better personality comes out around people like Brittany. Also, the next chapter will be the Hummel/Hudson wedding which is always fun. And then the next chapter should be a treat. A very good treat =]. I don't know what more to say haha. Enjoy the chapter. **

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><p>Chapter 7. The Jekyll &amp; The Hyde<p>

My hips ground down painfully against Puck's jeans. There was way too much friction there and it was driving him wild. I made sure to stay on top, I didn't want any grass stains on my Cheerios uniform. Shadows settled over our bodies from where the sun hit in between the bleacher stands. Our frantic breaths pervaded the open air. Football practice had let out long ago so we were free to get a little noisy. Puck was attempting to fist a hand into my hair. I reached up to catch his wrist and shoved it down into the grass.

"Don't fucks with the pony," I warned him.

The dominance of his situation must have drove him mad because he began tugging on my Cheerios skirt with those strong, callused hands.

"Let's do it right here," his voice was husky. I felt his fingers fleeting over my spankies. He leaned up and brushed his lips against mine in a brief kiss before tilting his hips up into me. He certainly knew what he was doing, there was no doubt about that. But I wanted something else for a change. Something I hadn't had in a while. Something blonde and soft; something sweet and flexible. Something like Brittany. I stole a glance at Puck and pursed my lips. Did he know that's what I wanted?

Suddenly the events of my car came rushing back to shake my present state of thinking. I actually worried. How much did Puck really remember?

"I think we should go out tonight."

That stopped my thinking all together. My curious eyes met his, waiting for him to elaborate on our newly formed plans.

"You, me, Whitney and Andrew. We could go to Breadstix for dinner and then afterward head back to Andrew's place."

My face fell at the mention of Whitney. Her voice made Rachel Berry's sound like song birds. She was embarrassingly envious of Brittany; she even went as far as dying her disgusting, sewer water brown hair, a light shade of blonde. She often went on crash diets to keep her weight down and when that didn't work she settled for barfing up her meals—Quinn told me about it last summer when she caught the girl leaving a bathroom stall with a toothbrush in hand. To kick the fucking dog when it was down, I made sure to ask her if she wanted any mints every time I saw her exit a school bathroom.

I slapped her across the face in freshman year a month or two after we joined Cheerios. She had made, what at the time she thought, was a clever comment about Brittany's long legs resembling a giraffe's. She never spoke of Brittany again after that and for good reason. Those long legs turned out to be one of Brittany's most sexiest qualities. She was jealous of Brittany and she had every fucking right to be. Andrew, Whitney's "boyfriend", was a sharp contrast to the dog faced girl. Andrew's face was coarse looking but the skin was marble smooth. His hair was a deeply set mahogany color and it slunk a little over his eyebrows. His eyes were a little too dark for his pale skin but sunken into the sockets which always made him look as if he were squinting; studying you. I would have loved to be studied by Andrew.

I knew exactly what Puck was insinuating and it was often something I did with Brittany to feel more comfortable. We would meet up with our boys of choice, stall it over dinner, and then head back to someone's house to do the dirty. Separate rooms of course for me and Britt but it always turned out the same. That _is_ how Brittany lost her own virginity. It was months later into freshman year and we were at Puck's house coincidentally. I didn't sneak off into another room with him while I waited on Brittany to finish with some boy's name I cannot remember. I waited for her in the living room like she had done for me my first time. I was actually too nervous to do anything with Puck at the time though. Sure, we had started hooking up briefly after my encounter with Alec but on that night I was nervous for Britt. I wanted her experience to be fun and memorable; special. I even took it upon myself to approach Brittany's date at school and warn him to be gentle or else I'd cut his balls off and put them on display in his mother's china cabinet. Luckily for him, Brittany was just fine.

My focus shifted to the boy underneath me. Puck was staring and waiting for my response. I didn't want to go with Whitney; Andrew sure, but never Whitney. I knew how Puck's gears worked both mentally and physically. This wasn't going to be a normal _date. _He was often into that whole sharing is caring philosophy. If I agreed to go, I'd most certainly be sharing Andrew but that meant Puck was free to try Whitney out like a new pair of shoes. Lets be honest here, Puck and I were _not _dating but everything he fucked, I technically fucked when _we_ fucked. I mean sure I slept around but I was smart about the essential matter of it all. I knew Whitney was a regular at the pharmacy, buying all of that cold sore medicine for her recurring herpes. It pissed me off that Puck would even consider sleeping with this girl. Puck of all people knew how shitty STDs were; he told me once about the time he contracted chlamydia in eighth grade from an Israeli foreign exchange student. Now you see why I don't trust Berry.

"You realize Whitney's been knocked up so many times she keeps the clinic on speed dial for abortion appointments, right?" I couldn't stop the words from spilling out.

"Oh come on, those are just rumors," Puck scoffed.

The fact that he was even defending this made my skin flare up in agitation. "It wont even be enjoyable," I found myself persisting. "She's slept with every team there is in this school...including the golf team. She's probably like the hoover dam down there."

Okay now I was just making shit up. The golf team? Come on. That was strictly for lesbians.

Puck was shrugging underneath me. "All the more reason to sneak in through the back.

He winked suggestively at me and I winced. We tried that once. Just once. It lasted for approximately 11 seconds; I counted every fucking breath. Never again. When I told Brittany about our recent "experiment" she had surprised me with a story of her own about it. Only her time was on accident and she was attempting to use a tampon ("wrong hole I guess," she'd said). I laughed for an hour straight.

"Noah you're disgusting," I delivered a light punch across his chest to insinuate I really meant it. He laughed against my beating fists and that only made me madder. I gave up on hitting him and began lifting off of his waist to go.

He caught my wrists before I could fully ascend and laid them over his chest. "I'm only joking about Whitney. I know she's a slut. Sam told me she even tried to suck off Coach Beiste once in the locker rooms because she thought she had a dick."

Wait what? Coach Beiste _didn't_ have one? Well that's news...

"I still want to go out tonight," Puck insisted, trying to catch my eye. "We can find someone else to accompany Andrew. I doubt Whitney would really miss him."

I sighed heavily, allowing all of my irritation to dispel from my lips. It annoyed me that he thought there was still some room for convincing. He didn't even want to be with me. He wanted to be with someone else in the _company _of me. Why couldn't this just be normal? Sure actual dates weren't our thing but I just wanted some fucking consistency. Damn it Puck.

"Cant. I already made plans." Still a damn lie.

With a furrow of his brow, his fingers tightened around my dainty wrists enough to leave an imprint.

"Since when?"

"Since...Brittany asked me to hang out tonight."

Puck's eyebrows raised, allowing me to see just how alight his eyes really were in response to me. "Brittany? You guys are okay again?" He asked with genuine surprise. I was surprised as well. I hadn't mentioned our falling out to Puck.

"We've always been okay," I replied coolly, that monster of anxiety was squatting close by just waiting to pounce on me. How much did he remember? How much did he already know?

Puck hunched his shoulders up in question. His hands were still clasped tightly around mine. That throbbing beat in the cavity of his chest. Was it getting faster?

"I've hardly seen you two together these last couple of weeks. She's usually attached to your hip."

I eyed him cautiously. He wanted an explanation of some kind and I was tip toeing around his statement with extreme care. If this was some kind of a contrived move for information, I did not want to slip up. I decided to play up the nonchalance.

"Rehearsals have been sucking up our time. You of all people should know that," I responded casually.

Puck broke our gaze and stared past me into the open field. He looked so far away; going and going until he was just lost. There was such a distance in his eyes that they were glazing over. I wanted to ask him what was on his mind. I'd never wanted to know more than in that moment. And then he spoke; my reserve came undone.

"Artie had said you two were fighting," his voice was apathetic, bored even.

At first instinct I uttered a strained laugh, attempting to rid myself of the growing anxiety and slight hysteria I was feeling. "What? How would Cripples know?"

"Well he _is _Brittany's boyfriend." Puck's tone was informative, as if this news wasn't already clear enough to me. The way he said it made it sound strangely like a warning too—a warning to back off? "She obviously told him. I just don't understand why you're not telling me."

"Why would I tell you?" I blurted out the question, forgetting to edit for his sake but I didn't think he'd need me to. It just surprised me. Was he really asking me why I hadn't confided in him? Really?

And I swear I saw his expression darken with embarrassment and then the unmistakable evidence of a grimace. I saw the pain that passed over those yellow brown eyes and I knew, without a single doubt in my mind, that I had wounded Noah Puckerman. It was empowering.

"You don't have to tell me shit," he grumbled back sourly, breaking his hold on my hands. "I just don't understand your reason for lying about it Lopez."

I was still recovering from the spell of euphoria that had swarmed my body, burrowed into my skin, and traveled through my bloodstream. I should have been angry at Brittany for telling Artie all of our business but I could honestly deal with that later. Right now I was focusing on Puckerman's strange behavior. My words had truly insulted him; ridiculed him. Surely, I was no expert in the study of people and why they did all of the crazy shit that they do but Puck's response to my words was significant. There was a miniscule possibility that Noah Puckerman could actually give a shit. Malice delighted in this news. My own form of malice. Puck hurt me all the time; who said I was obligated to be good to him now that I'd struck a nerve? No one that's for damn sure.

I rolled off of him in one motion, my ass flattening blades of grass—I'll have to dry clean this uniform later. The sun was still projecting shadows along our bodies and the grass but it had dimmed significantly, concluding I had been here for way too long. It was time to go. Not without a good kick first.

"Well I'm sorry, it didn't occur to me that I had to give you a daily report on what happens between Brittany and I, Puck. Should I start letting you know when we get our periods at the same time too?" My words were as sardonic as they come. I hovered over him from a standing position. He looked defeated.

"For christs sake, I'm not asking you to tell me your life story, Santana. I mean fuck, I've known you both since we were all freshmen. I think I know you a little more than a lot of people. It would have been nice to know, especially since you've been acting so fucking weird."

His response was authentic. My high was exuding slowly but surely out of my body and guilt began to seep in through the open pores. Perhaps I shouldn't have placed all of my aggression on him. I was compelled to apologize. Somewhere in there, lied a lovable Puckerman. Beyond his sexual innuendos and all of the bad things he asked me to do; he _had _to care. He just had to. And maybe there were some things he didn't care about—like my behavior around Brittany. Maybe he didn't care about any of that. The words he breathed out next proved all of my assumptions wrong.

"But you know, it's whatever. I guess you girls don't need anyone to referee..." he started in a controlled, much more confident tone. He stood to tower over me with his height, rubbing at the grass stains on the back of his jeans. "...you two always knew how to kiss and make up."

The words were simple but laced with corrosive intent. It was a subtle form of revenge. He knew exactly what his words would make me run back to. His bedroom; Brittany and I; the change in me.

Malice bubbled back up into my throat. "Fuck off."

I shouldered past him stiffly, my shoes smashing grass as I walked like a monster smothering a city in chaos. I didn't bother to look back at my own monster, I knew he was already gone.

**xXx**

Everything was glowing golden now that the sun was in the process of setting. My neighborhood streets were deserted. Kids were inside doing their homework, mothers bent over stoves preparing dinner, and fathers just now entering the after work traffic to make it home in time. I knew my father wouldn't be one of them. He worked well into the night and sometimes till the wee hours of the morning. My mother was usually home by now enjoying her second or third glass of wine, a reward for a consuming day. I was rarely home this early. My afternoons were stocked with obligations. If I wasn't spraining a wrist trying to hold up Quinn at Cheerios practice or knocking back a few wine coolers with Puck, I was over at Brittany's, checking her homework which was usually done entirely backwards or scheming about ways to find our place back at the top of the pyramid. And then there were _other _things we did but I'd rather not go into detail because I may just crash this car while thinking about them.

To my surprise, Brittany was waiting on me. She sat patiently on my porch as I pulled into the driveway of the Lopez residence. It strangely reminded me of the day we went to the park and I came home to Puck. Seeing Brittany there was a lot more pleasant though. She wasn't lingering with an ulterior motive; she just wanted to be near her friend. Her innocence was an antidote to my keyed up nerves. I didn't need to put a wall up to protect myself; she'd walked through that a long time ago.

Brittany sprinted across my lawn, her Cheerios skirt wafted in a cool breeze. She was at my car within seconds. The engine was still rumbling with life but I had stalled to roll down my window and take her all in.

"Hi," she said, a little winded from her jog over. Her hands fit into the curves of her hips. She beamed at me from her spot on the driveway. I couldn't stop myself from returning her natural cheer.

"Brittany!" My voice did a terrible job of hiding my enthusiasm. I toned it down. "What are you doing here?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I know you didn't text me back but I just decided to come. Thought I could wait on you to get back. How were your plans?"

"No plans," I told her honestly. "I would've texted sooner but I was kind of busy. How was coffee?"

Brittany's eyes studied the sky, trying to find a way to describe her afternoon date. "It was coffee," she finally concluded with a lack of remotely any interest as if to say, "how exciting could it really be?"

That pleased me.

"You could have went inside Britt, you didn't have to sit out here."

"I rung the doorbell a bunch but no one answered and I didn't want to just leave. What if your mom thought I was playing ding dong ditch?"

I forced my lips into a straight line to freeze the smile that was threatening to surface. "I doubt she's sober enough to even care about that. Follow me in, I'll park the car."

Inside, my mother was no where to be seen. The house was quiet besides the occasional rolling of the dryer and the circulation of the air. I suspected my mother was in her room, either passed out or on her way there. Britt and I migrated into the kitchen. Brittany had suggested we make our own dinner since the day was growing thin. I hesitated, knowing this wasn't exactly a strong suit of hers. Brittany could barely handle an _Easy-Bake Oven_.

"We should start off small. Desserts are semi easy, I think." I didn't really know for sure but dessert sounded a lot safer, less accident prone.

"Dessert it is."

"Well then..." I said while thumbing through one of my mother's many recipe books that were stacked up against the counter top. "What shall we make?"

Her presence surrounded me from behind, her chin hovered over my shoulder to get a better look at the book.

"Lets do this one," she declared, pointing at a sheet.

"Oreo truffles?" I asked to make sure I was looking at the correct one.

She nodded her chin against my shoulder. "Nana used to make those around Christmas."

My eyes scanned over the recipe. I was pleased with the lack of skill and ingredients necessary: Oreos, cream cheese, and chocolate—there was barely any actual cooking necessary.

"Lets get chocolate wasted then."

Brittany grinned.

**xXx**

I dropped the recipe book open onto the center island. Florescent light washed over the kitchen area as Brittany flipped the switch. The sun had finally set and the evening was fast approaching. I worried my bottom lip between my teeth, studying the book.

"So it says to put the Oreos in one of those food processor things and grind it all up," I said aloud.

Brittany spun in all directions, searching for the desired appliance. After a minute of shuffling, she turned back to me. "What's it supposed to look like?"

This was why she didn't cook.

"It looks kind of like a blender, just bigger," I explained.

The blonde soon realized she was standing right next to the processor. I took our bowl of Oreos from my spot near the island and helped dump them into the plastic machine on top of Brittany's counter; I fit the lid over the top. Brittany managed to save one for herself, proceeding to pull the cookie apart. I was mesmerized by the way her tongue curled up to lick the inner white layer in a few strokes. She was about to give _me _a stroke.

I forced my mind to focus on other things—like the fact that Artie knew all about our fight. That still pissed me off.

"Brittany—"

Before I could begin chastising her, Brittany had turned the processor on by accident. My voice was filtered out by the sound of blades dividing our Oreos into grains. She saw what she had done and immediately mouthed me a "sorry." I could tell she had no idea how to turn the thing off so I just let it run. The machine made quick work of the cookies until they were as fine as sand. I turned the processor off.

Britt helped me pour our Oreo dust into the bowl. I swirled a finger around the crumbs.

"It looks like dirt," I stated with slight distaste. I knew it was just grounded down, but it didn't really look edible from this view.

"I ate dirt once."

I smiled to myself, still looking at the dark grains. "I think everyone's done that at least once. Of course I stopped when I was like six though."

"You're supposed to stop?" She asked with a dead panned expression that made my smile falter.

"Santana I'm kidding," she finally assured when she noticed how grave my face had become. "God knows you'd never kiss someone with a dirty mouth."

My heart sped up at the mention of kissing. I willed myself not to act upon that. I made a trip to the refrigerator to grab the cream cheese and returned to the counter.

"Speaking of dirty mouths, why'd you tell Blue Tooth we were fighting?" The question practically fell out of my mouth. I couldn't bother pretending I didn't care.

Brittany didn't answer right away. I could feel her gaze upon me as I opened the cream cheese. Her silence was unnatural and incriminating; she knew she was guilty.

"Santana I was sad," she replied so softly I would've missed the words if I hadn't have been standing right next to her. "It all just sort of spilled out when I met Artie at Breadstix. I didn't have my best friend to rant to because my best friend was mad at me."

A part of me was begging to hear her; to understand. But that good old malice resurfaced; it kicked my conscience into submission. "Funny, I thought Fabray was your best friend."

"Santana—"

"I need the chocolate chips," I cut her off purposely. My hands were coating the Oreo crumbs around cream cheese, rolling the two ingredients together into tiny balls. "They're in the fridge."

She retreated from my side wordlessly. I listened to the refrigerator open and close before she was back at my hip.

"You of all people know Quinn's not my best friend." Once again her voice was soft but this time it was a little more determined. "She's always been so much closer to you—I'll get the stove ready for the chocolate—you two always had a lot in common."

I panicked at the thought of her working a stove and reached for her hand. The ingredients smeared over her knuckles and fingers.

"You roll, I melt," I instructed her.

She took over, continuing to roll our truffles to be. I grabbed the cold bowl of chocolate chips my mother had conveniently left behind in the fridge (she mixed them with pretzels to make trail mix) and started towards the stove.

A tense air of silence smothered the kitchen. I used a double boiler to melt down the chocolate chips without burning them to hell. Luckily, I knew how it worked since I'd seen my mother use it on various occasions to make cake icing—Eva Lopez loved her cakes. My back was turned away from Brittany while I stirred the liquifying chocolate. I peered over my shoulder at her. Her back was stiff to me as she placed the balls on a sheet of wax paper. I breathed out a sigh. I hadn't anticipated things would go like this. I thought that malice was specific for Puck; he deserved it. I shouldn't have been taking it out on Brittany.

"I'm sorry I wasn't happier for you when you told me about your date with Artie," I muttered under my breath, part of me praying she couldn't hear.

"Why?" Her question countered my apology.

"Why what?"

"Why weren't you happier?"

I cast my eyes down on the chocolate mixing. It was completely melted now. "Did you finish rolling them?" I asked a new question to replace her current one.

"Yep. You know...they kind of look like raccoon balls, but way less hairy."

I turned around and joined her at the counter she was leaning against. They did resemble tiny hairless balls. How Brittany knew what raccoon balls looked like, I didn't want to know.

"We've got to let them harden so just put them in the fridge for a bit and we'll wait."

She did as she was told. I turned the stove on low to keep the chocolate warm. Brittany sauntered past me and lifted herself onto the counter beside the stove. Her legs dangled inches away from my own standing ones. Her eyes still held her question but I didn't take the bait. Brittany reached over and quickly dipped her finger into the sauce pan where the chocolate was. Her darkly soaked finger went straight into her mouth, tasting the deliciousness of it.

After two more trips back to the sauce pan I grabbed her hand. "Slow down there. Save some to get the raccoon's balls wet," I said with a wink.

Brittany wore an amused smile. There was still chocolate dripping from her finger. Mischief was alight in her eyes. "I think _you're_ the one that needs to get wet." Without warning, she managed to smudge the rest on my nose. Her whole body shook with laughter at my grave expression.

I tried my best not to read too much into that statement. My own hand flicked over into the sauce pan. It was still warm as I dipped two fingers in and proceeded to smear the chocolate over Brittany's cheeks. She couldn't bother with resisting; she was laughing too hard.

"There. Now you have war paint."

Bent with laughter, Brittany sunk a finger back into the chocolate and ran a horizontal line over each of my cheeks. Then she leaned over from her spot on the counter and with one flick of her tongue, she cleared the smudge from my nose.

"I couldn't have my little soldier looking like Rudolph the brown nosed reindeer," she declared.

Why she had decided to use her tongue, I don't know. But there was no room for complaint.

"We're like those guys from that movie _Apocalypse Now _except nobody dies," Brittany said. She paused to think about something and then said, "and you look nothing like Martin Sheen. You're way hotter San."

I hoped to God the chocolate on my cheeks was hiding the burning scarlet I felt there.

I took a step towards her, the front of my Cheerios skirt leaned against her dangling legs. "Well I think you look hotter than Marlon Brando right now Britt."

Her head went back in a small, appreciative laugh. After a minute, she looked down again to inspect her nails. I dipped my thumb in the sauce pan one more time. Brittany lifted her head just a bit so she could watch me through long lashes. My chocolate stained thumb grazed her lower lip. Brittany didn't say a word. I used that same hand to lift her chin to look at me. Her eyes were simply curious just before I pulled her chocolate smudged lip between my own in a soft kiss. I sucked lightly, making sure to clean away all evidence of the sweetness. To my surprise, Brittany began to reciprocate the kiss. Her lips fit to mine without a sound between us. Her legs had opened at the knee, allowing me to lean further into her. My palms rested on either side of her on the cool marble of the counter top. Her arms snaked around my neck and pulled me closer. I let my hands roam the contours of her back. I parted her lips gently with a trace of my tongue and she opened for me immediately. Her mouth was the taste of freshly melted chocolate and I loved it.

Our lips found a natural rhythm that our tongues could dance to. My hand tickled its way underneath the fabric of her Cheerios shirt. I made small circles with my fingertips as they touched her bare skin. I pulled away for a mere second to catch my breath and to study her eyes. They were excited but also conflicted. I knew what was going to happen next but I just needed to finish this. I found her lips quickly, before she could object. My mouth opened slightly to nip down on her lip with my teeth before transitioning back into sweet, attentive kisses. Her fingernails digging into the back of my neck and her body scooting closer to the edge of the counter signaled that she liked it. She liked my lips pressing down on hers, alternating between her top and lower lip. She liked the way my tongue teased, playing a sensual game of cat and mouse. And she loved the way my palms rubbed her skin, igniting a wild fire.

But it wasn't enough.

To my dismay the kiss slowed. Brittany pulled away first. She ran a tongue over her bottom lip, still tasting my kiss. My hands retreated from her shirt without objection. Palms back down on the cool counter top. My hands missed the warmth of her skin. And finally, she let her own hands slide away from my neck. I grasped them before they could settle in her lap. I wanted her to look at me. I wanted to tell her that this was all okay but I couldn't figure out how to explain that without upsetting her. I waited. I let her breathing regulate and her eyes search for an answer. I could tell the stress of the situation was pumping a secretion of anxiety into her. My thumb circled over her hand; a comfort thing. She finally willed herself to look at me.

"Santana..." she began slowly, still unsure of the right words. Her body was growing sick, struggling to explain this.

I took on the burden for her. "It never happened."

Brittany opened her mouth to protest but quickly shut it, nodding with a lowered head.

"Come on, we've got some raccoon balls to dip."

Her laugh was strained but relieved. I helped her down from the counter and we returned to our kitchen duties.

I watched her when her back was turned. I knew she was struggling with more than just words. Brittany had such a good morality about herself. She never wanted to hurt anyone. There was innocent, genuine love in her heart and I didn't want to hinder that. If it meant taking a beating for myself then so be it; I could handle it. After all, I was her little soldier.


	8. It's Happening

**Author's Note: I struggled continuously with this chapter. It suffered many rewrites and just sad, sad writer's block. But suddenly, everything just sort of clicked together within a day. I spent days trying to perfect this chapter and just yesterday it all just fell together just right. This is one of my favorite chapters I can remember writing. It brought the fun back into writing and the fun back into writing a first person story. Being able to hang out in Santana's head was a blast because it's like you're there too. This is the night before the wedding at the rehearsal to perfect all imperfections in the ceremony. I loved writing this chapter because I got to include more Glee members in the mix. It was supposed to be longer but I decided not to try and cram too much into one sitting and just let it flow. No need to rush a good story right? I also appreciate all of your wonderful reviews. Someone mentioned oreo truffles in their last review. They're awesome right? Tasty little things. Haha but anyways. Thank you all for alerting and favoriting and reviewing this story. I'm glad you like it. I really hope you enjoy this chapter. **

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><p>Chapter 8. It's Happening<p>

If I never knew what suffocation felt like, I did now. My senses were bombarded. Someone's cologne was way too strong—Finn I suspected. My stomach was folding in on itself over the small group of eyes upon us, glaring in scrutiny: the relatives of the bride and groom. There was the constant noise: bustling, shuffling, griping, and nagging. I froze in the overwhelming chaos of it all. Who knew wedding rehearsals could be so brutal? This strange animosity had plagued the space of the ceremony room. Glee club was doing a terrible job at keeping personal vices at bay. Jealousy bloomed between Finn and Sam. I couldn't tell if it had anything to do with Q or the fact that Sam captured more attention in our opening number, but Frankenteen was encroaching on caveman status. I didn't know how much longer I could put up with Berry either. Her voice was splitting my skull; giving me a headache. Would Jesus let me slide if I slapped her just once? Remind me to ask Q about that.

Smooth wasn't the word to describe our wedding rehearsal but I liked to think we were making out okay in spite of Frodo and Cripple's injuries. Artie's shins were turning purple after Brittany wheeled him down the aisle so fast that he crashed into the mini stage area at the front of the room. Frodo's stage demise happened after she tripped over Finn's great aunt Hanna's everything-but-the-kitchen-sink bag and went flying face first into a crowded aisle row. Don't worry, her nose broke her fall.

Now here I was, stuck in the middle of the aisle—Finn's creepy 13-year-old cousin staring at my ass through my black, sleeveless, sequined dress—and listening to another mess of conversation from the Glee club.

"Finn you're on the left side not the right!"

"Brittany where's your bouquet?"

"What's a bouquet?"

"Rachel, are you really just going to stand there with that compact? Your nose looks fine."

"Last time I checked Kurt, a red, swollen nose was _not _fine. If Rachel Berry is to be the brightest star leading the way for her peers, she has to look presentable for her fated role—"

"Shut up, Rachel."

"Quinn, under no circumstance will I ever fall mute at your request."

"How's about I punch you in one of your elf ears. Let you go deaf instead Berry," I threw in.

"Word," Artie concurred.

"Damn! Y'all need to chill—"

"Mercedes we're in a church," Finn interjected.

"—My bad. But this is just a rehearsal and we're already fighting? Pull it together," the diva finished.

"Mercedes is right," Salamander Lips agreed.

"Mike sweetie, stop moon walking down the aisle," Tina chided softly.

"It's not us, it's Man Hands making everything about her," Quinn accused, pointing a shaky finger at the black headed troll. "You're lucky you were even invited tonight."

"Oh come on that's enough out of you Quinn! I'm tired of you always putting Rachel down. She has every right to be here," Finn boomed.

"Don't talk to my girl like that." Sam stepped in front of Quinn and cut his eyes in Finn's direction.

The room tensed at their sudden proximity. Sam, dressed in a dark blue sports coat, thrust his hands out to shove Finn. Rachel was at her boyfriend's side pulling him away from the altercation while Quinn stood frozen, allowing her own boyfriend to advance. I watched the situation unravel with a smile. This was the best entertainment we'd had all night.

A sharp whistle cracked through the air and into our ears. I winced at the sound and craned my neck to the back of the church in order to glare at the cause of that whistle. Puckerman removed his fingers from his mouth and crossed his arms over his black button up shirt. Kurt's dad, Burt, appeared from behind him in a gray jacket suit and tie. The mechanic looked rather nice for our rehearsal.

"Thank you Puck." Mr. Hummel acknowledged him with a shoulder pat.

"Sir," Puck responded with a nod, taking a step back to let him stand front and center.

He turned his attention to us."Now listen up. I appreciate you kids agreeing to help us pull off this wedding with style. My parents, Carole's, and our two families are all working hard to make sure this thing goes off without a hitch. We've got one chance to make this right guys. Tomorrow is going to be the biggest day of my life. Lets not screw this up."

"We won't disappoint you dad," Kurt assured.

"I know you wont son, now lets get started."

**xXx**

We managed to pull our heads together for another couple of hours of rehearsing vows, practicing entrances, and polishing steps. Berry even managed to shut up long enough for us to run through our performance without me wanting to chuck anything at the back of her head—sort of. Mr. Hummel was nice enough to invite the Glee club out with his and Carole's guests for a wind down dinner. Brittany took me up on my offer to drive. The air was cool and still tonight. My fingers tapped softly over the metal on the outside of my car door. The incoming draft tickled my skin. Brittany's window was barely cracked, her head pressed against it. The light poles we passed lit up her face, alternating between vague shadows and bright reveals. We rode in a comfortable silence like that for a third of the way there before she asked me a question.

"What happened to Puck?"

My eyes were glued to the windshield, one hand firmly gripped the wheel. "What do you mean?"

"He's your date, isn't he? Why didn't you come together?"

The skin on my hand pulled taut over my knuckles; I held the wheel even tighter. Puckerman was the last thing I wanted to talk about. After nearly a month's time, he was still on my shit list. It was only a matter of time before Brittany noticed his absence—I feared she may have always known but it was unlike her to pry...well, at least until now. How did I plan on explaining it to her? Hey Britt, Puck and I are butting heads over my unnerving attraction to you and your glorious little body. Yeah...that wouldn't go over well...or would it? Oh for fucks sake Santana, focus. But as I was saying, Noah had rubbed me all wrong and the arrogance was no longer cute, it was vomit inducing. Santana Lopez was not amused by his vulgarity in the halls, his blatant eye fucks in Glee club, or his unabashed sexts. I made sure he knew it in every glare, every scowl, and every seething word—their weren't many to give, but when I gave them, they hurt.

"I'm flying solo for this wedding Britt Britt," I finally said.

Shadows reached through the car, my eyes could just make out Brittany's silhouette. Even in darkness, her gaze burned straight through me. Her eyes flitted over my face and body; studying expressions, mannerisms, everything.

"You can be my date," the nonchalance in her voice echoed off my dashboard and the windows.

I stilled for a minute too long and her observant eyes noticed. I recovered rather quickly.

"Artie's your date, Britt."

It killed me to even acknowledge four eyes with the way she was looking at me but I did it for my sanity. I could not allow myself to fall into those deep, deep eyes. My mind was begging to be tricked by her. It wanted Brittany to influence it with her flirting and casual, breezy attitude about everything. Brittany had a natural air about herself to which she made you feel as if you were floating in her hand; you were the center of all of her attention. You were _her _butterfly. I couldn't be her butterfly. There was no room for trickery. There was no room for influence either. She'd staked her claim and, and I needed to respect that. Respect was a word I failed to approve of when it didn't involve me but this was Brittany. Adorable, loving Brittany. Sultry, enticing Brittany. Oh God...

"He's not as fun." Her confession spoke to me. In here. In my head. Under my dress—fucking A, remember what you just said. Respect. I have to remember that. Respect her wishes. "Last time we were at Breadstix, he wouldn't even let me use his chair as a wheelbarrow. He got so mad when the grease stained his pants and then I had to clean it up with my hands and—"

We nearly ran into a sidewalk full of trash cans when I stupidly took my only hand off the wheel to silence her.

"Jesus Santana," Brittany breathed. "Are you okay?"

"Are you kidding me?" I barked out. "If I wanted to picture how Saddle Shoes tricked you into getting his non existent rocks off, I'd be looking up kinky, Steve Erkel, robot porn right now."

"They really have that?" Her expression was clearly amused.

"What? I don't know Brittany. Just, please, no more talk about Abrams, okay?" I gulped in a deep, vacuum of air in an effort to douse the flames out of my fuming head.

Brittany nodded quickly. "You got it...date."

I forced my eyes to the road.

**xXx**

I blame Puck for all of this. If he hadn't have stolen that god damned ATM and went to ass hugging juvie, I wouldn't have reopened Pandora's shitty little box. Not that Brittany was necessarily evil or anything—she could never be associated with evil—but sleeping with her again made the down time so unmanageably difficult. A month before junior year began, we slowed our heavy petting to a crawl. Puck and I were getting seriously competitive with one another in bed (a who knew more game) and lets be honest, sex with Brittany was like, severely gay. That sounds like shit when I say it in my head. That is probably why I never brought it to Britt's attention. She understood either way and went about her kissing list among..._other _lists. But this time, when Puck left, and I initiated our first kiss since August, it was...different. Maybe different isn't the word. It was...familiar. My body, it missed Brittany's. It was like going for days without water and when you finally got a taste of that first drop...the thirst was insatiable. You drank and you drank and you drank. I was still drinking—wondering when this thirst would be quenched. Would it ever? Brittany was better. In bed, I mean. She _knew _things; things about _me. _It was as if she'd been studying her summer away for the Bar exam; I was the Bar. And she fucking aced it.

Now here I was, sitting beside the girl that had given me my first orgasm, my first kiss, my first...um...I'm sure there were other firsts, I just can't think of them at the moment. But as I was saying, I sat next to Brittany amongst the Glee club and a group of Hummel and Hudson relatives. The table was alive and chattier than ever now that rehearsal was over and we could all _relax. _Tomorrow was the day we'd all been waiting for. I planned on sleeping for years when I got home from the wedding; it had been a long and brutal road working to Kurt's expectations. Artie was across the table, staring lovingly at his _girlfriend_. Just that word makes me cringe. Oh God I hope she doesn't feel my cringe; I'm so close to her, I can almost feel her...her pinky. Is that her pinky on mine? I looked down between us and to my surprise it _was_ her pinky. Don't blush Santana, don't you fucking blush.

Excluding all external noise, my focus trained in on Brittany now. A dark blue halter dress clung loosely to her slender frame. There were pocket pouches stitched to the lower sides; she often stuffed her free hand into them to keep warm. Why was it so cold in here? Accidentally, I yanked my pinky away from hers in an attempt to wrap my arms around my body. Confusion etched into her expression for half a second before she started in on her pasta. That was a second I was not going to get back.

I sighed and looked at my identical dish. We still hadn't talked about the kiss in my kitchen. To be honest, it bothered me a little. Yeah I know, I know, I was the one who shoved it under the rug among all of the other things we failed to talk about (like how gay it was to touch her). But hearing her talk about touching four eyes in all the wrong places made me _want_ to talk about it. I needed to remind her of my presence and what it meant. I still wanted her. I wanted her _now. _I should like, stop here before I go into the nitty gritty details...

...just one more thing.

I feel like I'm going to fucking explode inside. Every time she touches me. Every time she looks at me. It's like having a blow torch held to your skin. It's incinerating me, eating everything up: my legs, my thighs, my stomach, my arms, my neck, _everything. _And all she can do is smile at me. And when she smiles so sweetly, I wonder if she's sadistic—does she know it hurts? She can't know. If she knew, she wouldn't be doing it. Right?

I gathered up the courage to look at her again. Our eyes met simultaneously and she smiled. Smiling, smiling, smiling, always fucking smiling. I smiled back, once again for my own sanity. I normally did that anyway but never to this degree. I smile so rarely at Mckinley that people have forgotten what my eyes look like when they crinkle. Maybe I should smile more. Artie's always smiling about something. Brittany seems to like it.

Brittany set her napkin down on the table and stood; it was sad that her movement not only gathered Artie's attention but mine too.

"Where you going babe?"

I cringed at the boy's words. Babe. It sounded wrong coming from his lips. So very wrong.

"Bathroom sweetie," Brittany replied with too much cheer for me to stomach.

I sent a scowl Artie's way; I had perfected that scowl just for this moment.

I watched her go, clutch in hand, swaying through busying waiters and waitresses. I turned my attention back to the table. Wheels now participated in a conversation with Tina because he was pathetic and useless without some form of a girlfriend around—current or ex, it didn't matter. Rachel cozied up with Finn, his arm perched possessively on her shoulder. Quinn and her human sized garbage disposal, Sam, were laughing at one of Burt's jokes. I had the urge to try and toss a crouton in Froggy Lips' mouth. I should probably go check on Brittany. That's what best friends do.

I retreated from the table without alerting anyone of my flee and made a bee line for the bathroom. Brittany stood in front of a long pane of glass on the wall with her hands behind her neck; she was trying to put her necklace back on. Her eyes never left the mirror and her clutch sat on the lengthy marble counter with multiple sinks.

"San, do you mind?" She raised an eyebrow at me in the mirror. I nodded at her reflection and stepped forward until I was directly behind her.

The scent of lilacs again assaulted my senses. With one hand, I scooped her freely hanging hair to her right shoulder. My eyes roamed over the skin there on her shoulder and her beautiful, freckled back. I loved those freckles. My fingers pinched the thin chain of her necklace delicately and concentrated on closing it around her neck. After a few tries, I was successful. She smiled through the mirror gratefully at me. The smiling thing again. But this time I didn't reciprocate it. Instead, I kept my eyes on her pink tinted skin. That thirst that made my mouth water. Oh God did it curse me at this time.

I shut my eyes and placed a tentative kiss on her shoulder. With my lips pressed to her skin, I opened my lids to study her reaction in the mirror. Her eyes were closed. They were actually closed. I dragged my mouth across her shoulder and laid a little kiss on the nape of her neck where her necklace closed. I didn't even realize my hands were bound to her waist now. I didn't realize how my nails kneaded into the fabric of her dress like a small kitten. Then she spun around and faced me, in my arms. Those eyes of hers bore so deeply into mine I almost buckled at the knee. When her lips dipped into mine I really _did _buckle at the knee but her arms were already around me and she was pushing. Pushing where? All I knew was that my heels were scuffing this nice linoleum. A door slammed; locked. Her lips again. All over me. I realized I was pressed against the door of one of those big ass handicap stalls. This was really happening. She was allowing my kiss, my hands, my body, my _everything. _Whatever this meant in regards to cheating, I didn't know but I had my best defense: she started it. Well, sort of.

I fisted a hand into her hair; she let me tug it as long as I tugged her to me. Her kisses were frantic and fragmented with brief gaps of air in between. I wanted to lock her lips down—force them to stick—but she controlled this entire affair. _Affair. _Oh God I'm praying she doesn't back out of this.

Her lips slowed until our mouths were working in a comfortable unison. The stall door was cold against my searing skin. My free arm stretched around her back, pulling her dress into mine. Delicious thighs pressed into mine; my mouth cracked open just long enough to groan. Brittany took that as an opportunity to slip her tongue inside. My tongue met hers in a moist, heated greeting. I parted my lips further to allow her freedom to explore. My hand found the skin of her back; that sexy, freckled back. I dragged my manicured nails over the bareness; fingers tickling vertebrates and nails clawing shoulder blades. It was heavenly.

Brittany's hand slid up the front of my dress, palming past my abdomen and forcing a path up the middle of my breasts before cupping the back of my neck. Just when I thought I would miss that contact against my chest, her right hand crawled up and palmed my right breast. My moan was stifled against her mouth. My hips spoke my mind for me in the form of needy grinds. To my satisfaction, Brittany forced a thigh in between my legs to silence my movements. My head would have slammed into the stall door if she didn't have such a firm grip on my neck. _Damn._

Unwilling to stand the torture of it any longer, my hand dropped away from her back and turned itself on the breast she was cupping. I laced her fingers in my own, the small sapphire stone in her ring jutting against the back of my hand. Her lips retreated from my mouth to see what I was doing. Our hands took a trip down south until they disappeared underneath my dress. Her eyes shot back up to mine in question. Conflicted _again. _

And then the sound of a door being waded open; Brittany backed away from me. Heels clicked against that scuffed linoleum; Brittany's clutch still on the sink. A pause, and then a voice, Quinn Fabray's voice. _Fuck._ I went and perched on the toilet with my heels on the seat and a wobbling arm on the back where the flush handle was. Thank God I had strong legs from all that Cheerios practice. Now I just hoped I wouldn't slip off—oh my god my dress is going to fall into the bowl! With my free hand I quickly snatched the fabric before it dipped into toilet water. I'd have to burn this dress if that happened. I almost released a sigh but silenced myself. It was official, I fucking hated Quinn Fabray.

"Brittany, is that you in there?" Quinn's question echoed.

I held steady. Brittany turned to me for answers. I nodded at her.

"Um...yeah Quinn, it's me," Brittany responded.

"Why are you standing up?" Quinn asked inquisitively. I'm sure she could see Brittany's heels from under the door.

"I, well—I just, I was about to—"

"Pee?" Quinn finished for her.

Brittany looked to me again with raised brows. I nodded again.

"_Yes_," Brittany breathed out with emphasis. "That's what I was about to do. Thanks for reminding me Q."

Although strange, I could tell Brittany's revelation did not surprise Quinn by much. She'd often taken trips to the bathroom and forgotten what she'd came for. It was such a Brittany thing to do. No one bothered to question it anymore.

"Sure Brittany. Look, have you seen Santana?"

"Santana? Why—how would I know where Santana is?" Brittany's voice faltered. She was never good at lying.

A pause. I imagined the puzzled look on Quinn's face.

"She's your best friend? You two are adjoined at the hip?" Her voice perched on exasperated.

"Oh. Well, I think she went outside to smoke a cigar or something," Brittany replied.

Once again she looked to me for acceptance. I smiled approvingly at her. Good job Britt.

"That's gross," Quinn's voice failed to mask her disgust.

"Tell me about it," Brittany agreed animatedly with her hands, although Quinn couldn't see.

The blonde swiveled to meet my eyes again and this time I shook my head at her. Without cigars, I wouldn't sound _half_ as good. My steady arm wobbled.

"Well hurry up out of there, Kurt's dad wants to make a toast."

"Okay."

Another pause. No sound of heels clacking. Go away Fabray. Go away.

"Do you need me to wait for you?" Quinn asked after a beat.

I shook my head fiercely when Brittany's gaze fell in my direction. So fiercely that I nearly slipped off of the toilet. _Shit. _

"I'll be fine," Brittany assured, looking at the stall door.

"Are you sure?"

My jaw clenched. Please Q. Just go.

"I'm sure," Brittany responded with a nod.

Heels clacked a short distance and a door opened. The sound of dishes clanging and people talking erupted through the bathroom.

"Just...don't fall in the toilet bowl like you did last time, okay?"

I bit my lip to stifle a laugh. Now _that _was hilarious.

"Be out in a minute."

More clacking and the door closed. She was gone.

I smoothly slid off the toilet. My calves burned.

"That shouldn't have happened," Brittany said.

Good old panic rode up my back. "What?"

"Quinn walking in here."

The tension in my body slackened. So she wasn't talking about us—well yet anyway. I smoothed the wrinkles out of my dress, eyes never touching hers. The bathroom grew too silent. The fluorescent lights beaming down grew too harsh. My skin grew warm and gradually picked up to hot. Was she going to say it or was she waiting on me? I didn't have the strength to say it. Not after what just happened. It was too good to deny.

"Santana."

Here we go. I forced my eyes up to look at her. Her concentration on the stall door, unlocking it.

"Yes?"

"I'll meet you back at our table."

And with that she shuffled out of the stall, snatched her clutch off the sink, and passed through the bathroom door.

The overhead lights buzzed. A faint dripping from the sink. My breath, shallow. A good minute passed before I exited the stall in the same fashion as Brittany.

The restaurant crowd had thinned just a bit. How long were we in there for? God I hope no one noticed. Actually, I take that back. I hope Artie noticed.

"Nice of you to finally join us Santana."

My skin heated in response to Berry's voice. Need I remind her she's still on my list?

"Sorry to keep you waiting Berry. I was just outside smoking my cigar, pondering whether or not becoming an anteater was a legitimate career path for you. We've got to use what we were born with to our advantage."

Quinn shook in her chair, trying to rein in the laughter echoing through her body.

"Santana," Mr. Shue warned. I hunched my shoulders up to him as if to say "what did I do?"

Metal tinkled against glass. Mr. Hummel stood at the head of our long party table with his drink in hand. Sam stopped sucking his food in like a vacuum and concentrated on the man. Kurt gazed at his father with love and admiration to which his father reciprocated in one look. I sighed. Emilio Lopez never looked at his baby girl like that.

"Once again I wanted to thank all of you for coming tonight. When I first proposed to Carole, I had no idea what I was in for. I hadn't been married in _years. _This was brand new again. But Kurt—" Mr. Hummel raised his glass in his son's direction. "—Kurt made this all possible for me again. He knew exactly what Carole wanted and he single handedly sculpted this wedding to perfection. And Finn, my other son, you've made me proud. I know we've been through some rough times but I'd like you to know, I see your change. I see your effort Finn and I love you for trying. Now I know I could never be a replacement to your dad, but I treat you like you're my own boy. I love you Finn and I love you Kurt and I especially love my finance, Carole. She is the light at the end of my tunnel..."

Mr. Hummel's voice faltered and his eyes grew tight with unshed tears. My own heart palpitated at the love in his speech and I couldn't help but link Brittany's pinky. We shared a knowing look of adoration for the bride and groom; we were _always_ on the same page.

Kurt stood and raised a glass. "To my dad and Carole. Soon to be Mister and Misses Hummel."

Everyone lifted a glass in the air towards the bride and groom. Brittany and I clinked flute glasses with one another in a toast. A smile stretched over her face so gleaming that it made my heart pause. And when her pinky tightened around my own it told me everything I'd been hoping to hear.

It happened.

There was no point in denying it any further and by the look on her face, she didn't want to.


	9. Champagne

**Author's Note: Alright big apology to all my readers for how unbelievably long it took me to finish this freaking chapter. This chapters...long very long so hopefully that makes up for it. I didn't have the time to finish it as quickly as I would've liked because hello it's summer! Parties, parties, and more parties. Throw a couple hangovers into the mix and you see where this is going. My birthday's also coming up in like five days. I'll be turning the big TWO OH. Big deal but not too big since it's not 21 just yet =[ Anyways, this chapter was so much fun to write whenever I had the chance. This is another one of my favorites. And um I think you all will like it...A LOT. And for obvious reasons which you will see. I wanted to perfect this chapter because it is a turning point in the story. I think I did a pretty good job. Review this one up guys, your opinion is imperative. I need to know how I did! So sorry for that wait. My next update may be a little lengthy because I'm going to Seattle tomorrow for a little while but you better believe I'll be cranking another chapter out soon. Hopefully this will hold you over. Enjoy!**

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><p>Chapter 9. Champagne<p>

My heart had melted through my ribcage and now seeped over every vital organ in my body. That's how it felt to listen to Mr. Hummel talk about Finn's mom. All doubt and uncertainty had expired when Mr. Hummel began his vows. His words were soaked in passion and honesty; so much that his voice grew hoarse at times. From the sidelines of the altar, I had a front row seat to this festival of emotions. I watched Kurt beam those pearly whites like the sun had been given a special invitation today. I watched Finn's mother check behind her every now and then to make sure her son was still with her; he never budged. The love that swarmed that crammed spot at the altar left me reeling. Don't cry. Just don't freaking cry.

"You know that saying that when God closes a door, he opens a window? Well, sometimes out of nowhere he'll do you one better and he'll kick a whole wall down," Mr. Hummel spoke through an elated smile.

"He grabbed me by the shoulders and he pointed me towards this woman right here." The older man turned to his fiance. His hands reached out to grasp her arms. "And he said, 'there she is, go get her'."

My stomach rode a wave of nausea when Frankenteen, like Burt, mirrored a look of adoration for his significant other. That look burrowed into my skin and reminded me of the rejection I had faced with Finn. I did my best to convince him to drop Berry, I really did. It stung when he took her side. It seared when he dismissed me from the room. It left a tiny puncture wound behind; open and stubborn to heal. A throbbing reminder of their pathetic need to cling onto each other for dear life. A bitter memento that I wasn't worth giving the hobbit up for. I didn't need any more reminders. Reminders fueled the life of memories and those often left me damaged. Well the ones about Brittany did. That whole forbidden fruit thing sucked.

I took notice of her presence beside me. Her milky skin caught my eye before anything else. Every inch of it just..._glowed. _The sunset orange flower in her hair matched the bouquet she held. Two of her adorable freckles dotted the pulse point of her neck. I loved that pulse point. She grew to love it too, especially _when_ I loved it. And then there was that freckle just above the left side of her chest. I kissed that freckle many times before. Images of the rest of her freckle spotted body attempted to crawl into my brain. Shook em out, rinsed them off. Church Santana. This is a freaking church.

Burt and Carole practically jumped into each others arms after affirming their vows. The ceremony room erupted in applause for the bride and groom, including me. Don't tell anyone but weddings were a soft spot. I was often the girl in the back row balling my eyes out after downing a few glasses of champagne. Bubbly was not my friend tonight. If I wanted to make it through the reception with minimal inappropriateness I needed to hold off on the alcohol. Pace yourself they say, I'll give it a shot.

**xXx**

Mr. Shuester was looking _good. _Now I'm not sure if it was that pearl gray suit he wore or the way his hips swayed in a delicious tango rhythm, but he looked _good. _I blame this on the reception. Flute glasses were being served out like water bottles at a tennis game. Pacing myself was harder than I thought—especially when you had Noah Puckerman seated at your table. He had a master plan to get laid stashed somewhere in his inner breast pocket: trusty Jack Daniels. Unfortunately for him, I was well aware of his intentions and only drank what sat on the table before me. I settled for a nice buzz, it made watching Brittany shimmy against Artie in her seat more bearable.

Two fingers jabbed into my side. I cut my eyes at Puckerman, the culprit.

"You look pretty smokin' in red," he husked out.

I listened for any shoddiness in his tone but all I could decipher was lust. I knew that look. He was wearing his "I plan on fucking you in the back seat of my car before you have a chance to pass out" smile.

"It's not happening tonight, Puckerman. I'm not nearly drunk enough," I replied condescendingly.

He frowned, clearly deflated, and turned his body towards mine in his chair. "What's with all the cattiness? You haven't talked to me in like, weeks."

I shrugged, arms crossed over chest. "Had nothing to say."

Puck inched his seat closer. I leaned away from his bold approach. Releasing an exasperated sigh, Puckerman snatched the leg of my chair and wrenched it toward him. Brittany laughed at another one of Artie's jokes in the distance, completely oblivious to the conflict happening inches away. I ground my teeth, resenting her temporary joy.

"Can we cut the bitch act for like two seconds, Santana?" He hissed near my face.

My eyes darkened into a scorn. I had opened my mouth to berate him when Mercedes settled at our table, cutting me off mid-scold.

"Ya'll havin' fun?"

"Loads," Puck and I responded in an unnatural unison.

Mercedes' eyes flicked between us, analyzing our tensely close proximity; the way I cringed away from Puck's touch; the fire brewing in his eyes. Our body language shot off a big, red warning flag.

"Well...I'm gonna go talk to Kurt," she stated to no one in particular before catching my eye and humorously adding: "I'll leave you and Ike alone, Tina."

I observed Wheezy's hasty retreat and then turned my attention back to Puck, acknowledging him coldly. Puckerman sized me up with narrowed eyes.

"Are you going to stare at my tits all night or are you going to speak, caveman?"

"Why are you always so mad? I mean if this is how it's going to be, the least you could do is have angry 'I hate you' sex with me from time to time. The Puckasaurus has needs."

His comment fueled the intensity pouring through the channels of my eyes. I hated when he referred to himself in third person; it reminded me of Berry. My gaze drew beyond Puckerman to survey my surroundings. Burt and Carole were making their way off the dance floor. Mr. Shuester echoed a congratulations to the newlyweds and exited off the stage. Suddenly he didn't look so good anymore, he just looked..._old. _Puck had killed my buzz. That was becoming a habit of his.

"I could care less about you getting your balls wet, Puckerman," I expressed in a once absent monotone. "I probably wouldn't even bat an eyelash if I found you in bed with your 80-year-old, Jewish bubbie right about now."

I really wouldn't.

The lack of treatment in my voice had surprised him. I had never sounded so tired. This relationship—or whatever the hell you wanted to call it—exhausted me. I didn't have the strength to analyze it anymore.

"What are you trying to say, babe?"

He ducked his head to find my eyes which were already lowered, inspecting my cuticles for imperfections. This conversation bored me.

I shrugged. He raised his arms over his head to stretch and I caught a whiff of strong cologne. Nothing nostalgic about it.

Finn stood in the middle of the dance floor, mic in one hand, drink in the other. He was making his mother blush with his love soaked words. I peered over Puck's shoulder to study Brittany's relaxed posture. Artie's arm was slung around her shoulder. When she spared me a look I took a sip out of my flute glass and shifted in my chair. Puck stared expectantly at me, waiting patiently.

"If you wants sex then haves it. Don't let me stop you," I breathed out, clearly exasperated with him and his said "needs".

He dropped his voice. "Is this your way of telling me you don't want to sleep together anymore? Is that why you haven't been talking to me?"

A deep crease formed between my brows. "What makes you think that?"

Puck took a quick look around the room and leaned in closer. "Is it another dude?"

"No..." I replied slowly, flicking a subtle glance in Brittany's direction.

To an outsider, this would have sounded like a typical conversation between a couple riddled with insecurities but I knew different. Puck was unconcerned with the possibility of me finding a new guy; that would only signify that it was time to find a new Santana which proved to be impossible. We were each others favorite thing to play with. Excluding all of my football team lays in between, Puckerman was a preference. I came back to that mohawk shaven idiot every time. And he came back to me. That was our general understanding.

Recently things had changed. I didn't know how to be around Puckerman. My boxed up emotions had liquified and spilled through the cracks. To avoid any further scrutiny, I was shelving my favorite toy. Things were growing tense between us. When I wasn't beating him over the head for making a snarky comment about Brittany, I was struggling to ignore Puck's apathetic approach to our relationship. Don't get me wrong, apathy definitely complimented meaningless sex but with Puck it was starting to feel personal. I didn't do personal.

"So let me get this straight. If I were to invite one of your little Cheerio friends over to my place, you wouldn't give me shit?" He asked cautiously.

"Nope," I confirmed with a shrug. None of the Cheerios even compared to me anyway. I watched his mouth twist into a sly grin. I snuck a peek at the blonde cheerleader sitting two chairs away and outwardly expressed a thought I didn't realize I harbored: "Just not Brittany."

Puck's face hardened. "Of course not. I wouldn't do that to the young jedi on wheels. Artie's my bro."

I nodded hastily. Of course Puck wouldn't. The real question now was, would I? I downed the rest of my champagne and forced my eyes away from that mane of blonde.

**xXx**

"Santana, where are your keys? Brittany's voice resounded in my ear.

"Why?" I asked irritably. Her hand was pressed against my back, guiding me out into the night air.

"You've had a little too much to drink."

"I'm_ fine_."

"I can drive her home," Puck offered. "I'll pick her car up tomorrow."

"I think I should take her," Brittany insisted.

I checked between them, my cores were having a conflict. Brittany looked uneasy at Puck's suggestion.

"I thought you were coming with me, Brittany? My dad was going to give us a ride." A swirl of silver and black wheeled into my peripheral vision: Four Eyes.

"I just want to make sure she's okay."

Keys jingled in the distance.

"Realllly guys. I just...I just wants to sleep."

Someone dropped a coat over my shoulders. I shrugged it off.

"For goodness sake guys just get her somewhere," Quinn hissed. "Before Mr. Shuester comes out and sees."

"It's fine Puck," Brittany's voice, stern and impersonal. She didn't use that tone often. "Lets go, San."

A gentle push into my back. My heels wobbled underneath me. Between the spinning colors of asphalt and headlights, I assumed that we were in the church parking lot. The alarm chirped on what I believed to be my car. A click of the passenger door and Brittany lowered me inside the interior. My head fell back against the seat and I shut my eyes to ward off the spinning sensation. Damn I was a mess.

Seat belts clicked; the engine rumbled.

"Call me later, okay?" Artie's voice sounded from my left.

"I will. Apologize to Kurt for us will you? I didn't plan on leaving so soon."

"Sure, don't worry about it."

The rest of that conversation died off and we were on our way. My window rolled down and a fresh breeze of air tempted my eyes open. A Leona Lewis song played in the background. We were driving so fast. When did Brittany start driving so fast? We halted at a stop sign so sharply it caused my head to pitch forward.

"Sorry. You know how bad I am at this," she spoke softly. "Do you have to throw up?"

I shook my head a little too fast and immediately regretted it. Now I really did feel like puking. I sucked in cool Lima air and forced it back down. The roads we took were familiar but they weren't a pathway to home. Broken intersection lines bled together into one infinite string. Driving was so out of the question for me.

I studied Brittany's face quietly. Her expression often alternated between confusion and vacancy. I waited for the smile but it never came. My arm felt light as I raised it towards her. I tucked a stray hair behind her ear and let my hand fall away.

"You look so pretty," I complimented boldly.

She kept her eyes on the road. I felt a quiver on my bottom lip. Why was she being so cold?

I lowered my gaze to the rest of her rigid frame. Even in our lack of lighting, her skin glowed pale. Her knuckles gripped the steering wheel tightly and her posture hunched as we careened around turns. Pursed lips replaced any evidence of a smile. Driving had never been Brittany's forte. The multitask of checking mirrors, pressing pedals, and keeping the wheel steady exhausted her. But here she was, putting all of that aside, taking care of me—like she always did.

I needed to see that smile again. Her eyes were devoid of the light she usually carried behind them without that smile. It verified the health of my situation—I needed to be comforted by it. I needed to cheer her up; make her feel good—I _wanted_ to.

I reached for her; tan hand over stiff shoulder. My motions were tentative and small at first, simply working in a comforting rub. I let my hand droop lower to run my knuckles over her bare arm. Although her impassive expression never faltered, I could tell this was having some kind of effect because her baby blues often flit down to my roaming hand. I allowed each fingertip to circle her arm lazily. Each stroke on her skin seemed to burn. I noticed her steering wheel grip had loosened. This had been a good idea after all.

When we stopped at a lonely red light my motions ceased. Brittany relaxed against her seat for the first time since we began this trip. I watched her chest rise up in a deep sigh and plummet. I soaked up the view; her golden curtain of hair that spilled over her shoulders; the softness of her exposed neck; the way her dress hugged her body just right, accentuating every curve and detail...

My hands moved faster than my sluggish brain could comprehend. I gripped her thigh, bunching my hand around dress fabric in the process. The massaging commenced except this time I drew my hand up higher, seeking the one spot I wanted so badly to love.

"Santana stop," Brittany warned. Her hand grasped mine.

Her words sounded jumbled and my brain failed to understand the significance of her tone. My hand continued to rise, wrinkling her dress and exposing her bare knee.

"Santana you're drunk—"

"Brittany I've gots this, just shut up and sit there," I snapped at her. Realizing what I had just done, my intrusive hand shot away and clamped over my mouth. Why did I say that? I didn't mean to say that.

Brittany's eyes were arresting. A green tint shined over her face, making them glow. We stared at each other for one long minute. Even as her face blurred together in colors like a mixing canvas, I recognized the sadness. I'd fucked up. Fuck alcohol right now, just fuck it. Never touching the stuff again.

"I...I didn't mean to—look I, Britt I'm—"

_BEEP! _I nearly jumped through the roof of my car at the blaring horn behind us. Brittany and I turned around at the same time to see a dark skinned man craning his neck out the window.

"It's a green light, move it!" He yelled, jamming a fist on his horn again.

Suddenly overwhelmed and a little scared, Brittany pressed on the gas and we skidded away from the douche bag. We were driving way too fast again. Streetlights came and went faster than I could blink. Brittany's expression was indifferent, schooled and closed off. I struggled with my stupid brain, what could I say? It seemed like the words were on the tip of my tongue but nothing right rolled off. The words vanished before I could finish thinking of them.

"Where are we going?" I asked instead.

"The park. You need to sober up," she explained in a monotone.

"Why?"

She shot me a look. "What do you mean why? Look at you," she said, gesturing a hand at me. "You're so drunk I'm surprised you can even have this conversation with me."

"I controls my liquor," I mumbled, looking out the window.

I heard her scoff. My lip began to quiver again.

I turned to her. "Why are you being so mean?"

The car slowed to enter the same park I took her and Lord Tubbington to. Brittany crookedly parked the car and killed the engine.

"Swell driving, B," I said, mocking applause with my hands.

She tossed her hair to one side and for the first time since the reception, she smiled.

"You're a mess, S."

My head rested on the passenger seat, eyes on Brittany.

"I need you to forgive me, okay?" Better to ask for absolution than struggle with an apology.

She nodded. "I already have."

**xXx**

"Do you think Oreos' Belt like, dips itself into the Milky Way? And if so, who eats it?"

A laugh shook my body until it was sore. I loved it when Brittany tried to figure out astronomy.

"Orion's Belt, Britt. But if that really happened and it was really an Oreo, I'd assume God would eat it," I explained to my best friend.

"Why God?" She asked and then suddenly turned to me with a new question: "What if God's fat?"

I bit my lip to keep another throaty laugh from escaping. "Well, a good amount of the population is fat so I guess that whole thing about him making people in his image is true."

"I kind of like buzzed Santana. She has the secrets to the universe," Brittany whispered, inching her body closer, warming mine.

Under nana Pierce's tree, Britt and I laid out on a large blanket she'd found in the back of my trunk. Without Brittany's close proximity, the air chilled me but it had also participated in helping me sober up. Our cell phones were in the car; there were no indications to prove how long we had been here but time seemed to be at a standstill. With my thoughts growing clear and Brittany by my side, I didn't care if we stayed here all night.

"I'm sorry I almost made you cry in the car," Brittany blurted. Both of her hands gripped my right.

"You didn't," I lied; too heavily embarrassed by the fact that she even noticed weepy Santana in the car.

"I was just so mad, San." I looked at her; our noses nearly touched. "Puck shouldn't have been feeding you drinks like that."

"He didn't give them to me," I defended.

"He never stopped you either."

She had a point. Puckerman never once told me to cool it. In fact, he kind of encouraged it. That master fucking plan of his.

"I'm over Puckerman," I said suddenly. Brittany kinked an eyebrow. "Boys are a waste."

Brittany bit her bottom lip and flicked a glance at my own. I remained completely still, leaving everything up to her. That same lip graced my cheek in a friendly kiss. Before I knew it, the blonde was at her feet.

"Are you okay to drive?" She asked tentatively.

I glanced up at the constellation of colors in the sky; no spin and no blur. I nodded. Her hand outstretched towards me.

"Good. Take me home."

My hand enclosed around hers.

**xXx**

Being in Brittany's room—not to mention near a bed—overwhelmed me to the point where I wished I was drunk all over again so I could just ignore her and pass out. Having sobriety in this situation agonized me. As if I couldn't notice the details well enough intoxicated, being sober amplified everything Brittany was. My brain consistently analyzed every subtle touch and suggestion. To put it bluntly, I was my own worst enemy.

Brittany flicked on a light and tossed her heels into a lonely corner before sinking back on her mattress. Shoving the approaching hesitation aside, I unstrapped my own heels and joined her on the bed.

Brittany threw an arm over her face and exhaled loudly. I checked the alarm clock on her nightstand; a quarter past one. This day felt infinite. The wedding had started late this afternoon and the reception droned on into the early evening. The hours in between were a blur; it was hard to believe so many things had occurred in such a short period of time. And now we were in our final moments of the day, winding down, trying to expel that last jitter of nerves in exchange for a blissful sleep.

"Are you hungry, Santana? I could make you something if you like," Brittany offered, sitting up suddenly.

I shook my head in response and tugged at the back of her dress, signaling her to lie back down. "Stay."

The mattress dipped under her weight. I felt an arm brush against my skin. Brittany was still beside me. Her breathing grew so deep that I wondered if she had fallen asleep. To my surprise, she nudged me with her hand.

"We should probably get ready for bed."

"I don't want to move," I mumbled through closed lids.

A shadow blotted out the light draping over my face. The smell of lilacs caused my eyes to flicker open. Brittany hovered over me, hands on either side. My throat closed up at her sudden proximity. My heart galloped and trampled over my ribs.

"What are you doing?" I managed to croak out.

"You'll wrinkle your pretty dress if you just lie there. I'm gonna help you," she declared, running her fingers through my hair to pull out the bridesmaid flower. "I know you're tired."

Brittany dropped the flower over her bedspread and leaned away from me to sit at my side. Sitting up as well, I swallowed the lump in my throat and reached into her hair to do the same. In that same moment Lord Tubbington bounded onto the bed, releasing a throaty groan. He made it a point to crawl up my chest and down my stomach before making his way over to Brittany.

"Fuck off, Tubs," I snapped at the ball of hair and paws, throwing Brittany's flower at his massive body. The cat hissed and I bit back the urge to do the same.

"_Santana_," Brittany scolded.

"He totally hates me," I defended, watching the cat scamper off the bed.

"He's protective," Brittany corrected with narrowed eyes.

"Damn straight he is. What kind of cat sleeps in between a person's legs anyway? Like all up in the crotch area."

Brittany's cheeks flushed red at the comment but otherwise said nothing to explain. My eyes raked over her clothed body. In such a fluorescent light, being so close that we could touch, she looked better than I had imagined. Artie had her all to himself at the reception but here, in this room, Brittany was everything of mine.

"Unzip me?" I asked with an undiluted innocence.

My words ceased to exist; Brittany's fingers were already hot on the back of my skin and her knees sunk the mattress behind me. Irregular breaths touched my neck as she slid the zipper down on my dress. Neither one of us spoke, the air was thick with the potential for anything right about now. When Brittany finished, neither of us dared to even move.

"Santana?" Brittany called out, still behind me on her knees, fingertips still pressed into my back.

"Yeah?" my voice was hoarse.

"I want to kiss you."

Her admission stirred a boiling pot of desire in my stomach. My eyes flicked around her room, searching for the right response. What the hell was the right response? Oh wait...duh.

"Go for it," I breathed.

Her fingers tickled up and over my shoulder blades to snake around my front. I shut my eyes and waited, feeling shallow breaths on the inside of my neck as she leaned into me. Dry lips skimmed the skin there and trailed up my jaw. From there she kissed a path to the front of my mouth and paused. Her hesitation was on the verge of killing me. Disregarding any patience I once possessed, I turned my face to the left, allowing our mouths to touch briefly. A current passed freely between our mouths—the conductors.

With our mouths still joined, I took the next step, cupping my right hand over her cheek, pressing against her. Brittany allowed the intrusion, parting her lips, inviting me in. I maneuvered my body until I was facing her, knees to knees. I sucked softly, alternating between her bottom and top lip, breeding a new level of intimacy between us. My left hand pinched the fabric of her dress and I lowered her down underneath me, positioning myself in a dominant perch.

My thigh slid between us and my thumb stroked her cheek to put her quivering mouth at ease. Her tongue dipped past my lips and I greeted it with a long lost hunger I forgot I had locked away. Her fingers tangled into my hair, massaging away any spindle of doubt left inside. My tongue stroked the cavern of her mouth with delicacy, courting and teasing her. My hand reached for her side and began unzipping her dress. I needed bare skin. Now.

Her body arched up into mine and her hands fell away from my dark locks. The kiss ceased at Brittany's request, her mouth released mine in reluctance.

"Wait Santana," she gasped against my face. "I don't know if I can—oh god."

My mouth attached to her neck, sucking like a vacuum, desperate to leave some kind of mark. I didn't want her to forget this.

"I don't...want...to hurt..." I pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her fragmented sentence and continuing my assault. I dragged my teeth against the porcelain taut skin, tainting it, scarring it. If she couldn't feel the avidness in my kiss, she would surely feel it in my bite.

"We need...to talk about this," Brittany tried again with a waver in her voice.

I flicked my tongue out against fading teeth marks as if a stroke could heal. I found her gaze; her eyes were wide and smoldering. That was a good sign.

"Lets talk then, B. What would you like to talk about?" My voice, sweeter than a pound of sugar as I fit a hand underneath her dress. Her inner thighs emanated heat from a source up north.

She swallowed so hard I could hear it.

"You're getting me in trouble, San."

"How so, B?" I lilted in response. I ran my fingers up her thigh and trickled them back down.

Unconsciously, Brittany licked her lips and lowered her gaze to my own. "You know how."

"How should we fix it?" I dug my nails into her leg. Affliction and fervor danced an unusual tango in those baby blues.

"I don't know, S. I don't know..." she trailed off and looked to her right, effectively avoiding my stare, "It's just everything Q's said—"

"Q's an idiot," I fired back, not giving her a chance to pollute the room with more Fabray bullshit. "This doesn't even count."

Brittany looked at me, clearly puzzled. "What do you mean?"

I leaned back to sit up, unintentionally rocking my hips against hers, eliciting a moan from her puffy, pink lips. A smirk stole a place across my face for an instant before I reclaimed my train of thought.

"It's...different with us, Britt," I struggled, reaching for an explanation. "It's not like I'm a guy."

"You are definitely not a guy," Brittany confirmed coyly, looking down between us at the ruffles my wandering hand made under her dress.

"Girls do this all the time," I said, gesturing at my hand. _They did?_ "It's so not cheating. I mean I don't even have a..._you know_."

I studied her face, ease transpired from her expression. My voice grew thick with persuasion. I just wanted her so fucking _badly._

"Guys find this hot anyway—Artie would find it hot. We're girls B; the plumbings all different."

Wait. Did I really just compare our lady parts to _plumbing_? Seriously Santana?

"Cheating is for boys and girls," I clarified with self assurance. There. That sounded better.

"So it's okay to tell Artie? Brittany suddenly asked. The words were like a rattlesnake's poison.

"No," I disagreed with as much edge to cut a person in two. "This is between us. A secret. You wouldn't share a secret like this with Artie, would you?"

Personally, I _wanted_ her to tell him. I wanted to see the look on his scrawny little face when he found out I fucked his girlfriend senseless until she couldn't remember his phone number. Just to keep him rooted in his own piss poor burrow of loserville. Make it hurt. But that would mean people could know. _No one_ _could know. _

Brittany chewed at her lower lip, considering this entire discussion. My palm ran flat over her leg, perspiration began to stick. She was so _hot. _

"No," she decided. My face lit up. "It must be okay if it feels this good."

"Does it? For a second I thought I was doing it all wrong," I teased.

Brittany smiled but instead of a vibrant light touching her eyes, a sweltering glint seized them. The next three words she uttered quaked my core.

"Undress me, Santana."

Wasting no time, I unstraddled Brittany to sit beside her mattress sunken form. I used my fingertips to pinch the hem of her dress. Her eyes were on my hands as I slid the fabric up inch by inch to get a better look at toned calves, splendid knees, and white, lace panties. I paused briefly to run my fingers over her thigh; skimming over the outside and dancing along the inner. Brittany stilled a breath when I nearly touched her center but I refrained, wanting her anticipation to explode through her bedroom roof.

I leaned over her to plant a kiss on each of her hip bones. My thumbs brushed against her stomach as I lifted the dress even higher. Brittany arched her back to allow it to glide up more smoothly past her chest, revealing a matching white, strapless bra. That lone freckle just above her breast; I pressed a chaste kiss against it. Brittany attempted to sit up, arms lifted above her head, encouraging me to pull the dress off completely. But I slowed my progression and pressed her gently back down. I allowed the remaining cloth of the dress to cover her face, leaving everything else helplessly exposed.

I took her neck gently within my hand and kissed just under her jaw. I could feel her pulse thumping through my fingers. Shallow breaths projected from Brittany as she awaited my next move. With her sight obscured, each touch seemed to amplify the heat resonating off of her. My thumb followed the path of her collarbone before trailing lower to the front of her bra. Hooking a finger into the middle, I undid the front clasp and slid it out from under Brittany in one motion. My eyes lingered over her half naked form in pure enthrallment. There wasn't an inch of her that could be left disregarded.

Brittany's frame shivered into the mattress.

"Cold in here, Britt?" my voice, amused as I watched her nipple grow erect over my brushing thumb.

"The opposite, actually," she said in a tone thick with arousal. "You're overcooking me like my dad does the turkey every Thanksgiving, San."

I expelled a laugh and pinched her playfully. Brittany threw the hem of her dress off her face and looked at me.

"I can't take it anymore. I need to see you."

I drew in a breath, slowly unraveling under the weight of her stare. I instructed her to sit up and she did, arms raised to the ceiling. I pulled the dress over her head, letting it drop off to the side. I retreated from the bed before she could reach for me, only to fall out of my own dress. Brittany watched it pool to the floor of her bedroom with excitement alight in her eyes. Excitement of the things to come.

As I crawled back onto the bed, Brittany's legs parted to invite me in. Remolding myself against her nearly bare body was heavenly. The warmth of Brittany's palms imprinted over my cheeks as she pulled me down for an overdue kiss. God did I miss kissing Brittany S. Pierce. How could I have withheld for this fucking long?

With every second that passed, I reassembled my once fragmented core. I reclaimed her with my adept mouth, my dexterous hands, and my eloquent words.

Brittany's kiss induced a wildfire just below my belly button. It launched our bodies into a frenzy of skin grabbing and hip grinding. Somewhere during this interlude, she managed to unclasp my bra. I couldn't even tell you where that went because all focus had been diverted to her inviting lips. Tranquility showered over us and every inhibition I had worked so hard to perfect abandoned me.

By some miracle I managed to escape her ever dueling tongue but not without reluctance. Already missing it, I redirected my attention to another part of her body that seemed to scream out to me...well at least her nipples did anyway. I began around the edges of her small breast, training my tongue into wide circles before zeroing in on her nipple. I took the bud between my teeth gingerly and fluttered my tongue against it. Brittany inhaled sharply, encouraging my actions to flourish. Brittany's legs bent at the knee and her thighs squeezed around me, pinning me to her. Her hands snuck up behind me to palm my ass while she curved her hips deliciously into mine. Biting down on her breast was all I could do to stop myself from coming right there on the spot. Brittany had that kind of effect.

My dark locks were a sharp contrast against Brittany's creamy skin. The ends of my hair tickled over her breasts, her arms, and her neck. The contact of bare flesh sent a shiver up my back. A thumb rolled over her erect nipple and the rest of my hand cupped to massage the whole of her breast. Her moans were a direct link to my body; they serenaded it, seduced it, and supplied it. Brittany's fingers prodded against my spine, drumming over each vertebrae. The simple graze of her touch invigorated the throbbing between my legs. The ache burned through my veins and just soared. Without even thinking about it I hiked a leg over hers, allowing my clothed sex to press into the bareness of her thigh. I couldn't help the throaty moan that escaped. I couldn't help the kiss I planted on her smiling lips. And I surely couldn't help the way I rocked myself against her without a hint of shame.

Brittany's eyes locked onto mine and my brain shut off. The chilly blue hypnotized my hands to linger south. Her fingers fluttered over my lower back as mine roamed past the muscles of her stomach. Those same muscles clenched in just the slightest way when I kissed the spot right below her navel. I bunched the material of her underwear in my fist and cocked an eyebrow at her. Her eyes were in agreement.

"Take them off," she practically purred. Her voice embodied sex and it ignited my entire being in an invisible flame. I would do anything she asked. _Anything. _

Removing my leg to perch between hers again, I peeled her panties down her hips. I held my breath and slid them past her thighs until her feet pulled out of the leg holes. I dropped them to the floor and swallowed back the knot forming in my throat. A patch of scarlet warmed up Brittany's neck at my new view. Her bare sex laid there before me and nothing had ever looked so...so beautiful. I took her bent leg and swarmed the smooth skin in kisses; over the knee cap, behind it, and up the inner thigh. My lips hummed against her, purposely sending the vibrations to her throbbing sex.

"Santana." My gaze snapped to hers; gentle brown to serene blue. "I want to feel you."

It was as if my brain had turned to mush and all I had left to rely on were my hands which moved with an automatic purpose to my own panties. I rolled them down right there between her legs, kicking them off somewhere behind me. It wasn't as graceful as I would've liked but they were off; that's all that really mattered.

Brittany's eyes lingered for a very long time. The depths shone with the same enthrallment I possessed for her earlier. It was _my _turn to blush now, never feeling more exposed than I did right now. Not even Puck had had the liberty to view me this bare; no boy did. Brittany got all the firsts.

"Come here."

The beckon implied such safety that I instantly found myself in her warm embrace; her long arms swallowed me. A moan slipped past me involuntarily as our centers collided. More heat than I ever thought possible generated, multiplied, and migrated down below. Brittany's hand traveled through my hair before resting securely around the nape of my neck. In an easy silence she closed the distance between our mouths. Her tongue tangled with mine in the same fashion as our legs. I couldn't decide what to concentrate on more, the friction of our hips or the dueling of our tongues. Mmm definitely the hips thing.

The ache between my own legs drove me to lift a thigh around my waist, effectively yanking her as close as she could ever be. And god she'd never been so _hot_. Like literally. I could feel her sex and every bit of arousal it secreted. I concluded our kiss with the tug of her lower lip between my teeth; she loved that. I circled her entrance with lonely fingertips. Her hips pushed out in expectancy. Her folds were swollen and soaking under my touch. Eyes locked once more; molten chocolate to smoky blue gray. Lips found her ear.

"I want you more than I can bear right now. This is your last chance, B. Stop me if you want out," my voice breathed barely above a whisper but the chill I felt run through her in that instant told me she had understood just perfectly. My body had no intention of letting her go, I just...couldn't do that. But it was polite to hand out a choice...even if the answer proved inevitable.

Her breath tossed right back into my ear: "You know this isn't even up for debate."

I allowed the muscles in my face to climb upward into a smile that hurt just before I pushed a single digit inside of her. The reaction was instantaneous and _loud. _Brittany chewed her bottom lip to muffle the noise just long enough for me to pick up on a steady pace. I tilted my palm upward, allowing it to graze her clit with each motion. Her walls tightened around the welcomed invasion which made the struggle that much hotter. I leaned down to take her right lobe into my mouth and positioned myself further in between her legs so that my hips pressed into my busy hand.

"You feel amazing," I whispered into her ear as I slowed my hand just briefly to add a second finger.

I turned my head just in time to see her fist the comforter. My fingers pumped rhythmically and she met me with an equally timed thrust of her hips. I curled and explored her walls, taking them as far as they could go while brushing my thumb over her bundle of nerves.

"Oh god, San," she gasped sharply, ruffling the ends of my hair with each ragged breath.

Her free hand reached out to palm my breast, tweaking the nipple with a sense of ruthlessness. I hissed out my satisfaction and found my fingers skating down between my own legs. I changed the tempo of my speeding hand to a significant crawl. Brittany groaned at the agonizing pace and then before she had time to utter a complaint I drove my fingers into her deep, making sure my palm tapped her clit with enough force to make her cry out. And she did. I heard the true range of her vocals when I reiterated this action over and over again. The noises she made only encouraged the pace of fiddling fingers over my own sex. Her roaming hands boiled me over the edge. I worked faster, harder, and hungrier. My fingers curled up inside of her in a come hither motion that had her arching off her own bed. She'd never looked hotter.

I ran my tongue flat against her cleavage, tasting the saline of her sweat and everything else she had to offer. With each thrust, I watched her face contort into a mask of satisfaction only I knew. Just witnessing that lower lip quiver churned coals in my stomach. I loved watching her get off as much as I loved getting her off. It was an automatic turn on; another direct link to my body. I concentrated more on our clits now because I could feel her walls shutting down and my own temperature preparing to pop off the fucking meter. I buried my fingers into her while at the same time grinding my pelvis against it, applying pressure to the both of us. Brittany's breaths came out in choppy sequences and her hands gripped my waist painfully tight; nails left crescent moon shapes on my skin.

Our movements grew frantic. I rocked into her, she rolled into me. I had to swallow away the dryness in my throat in order to produce my next groan when Brittany suddenly cupped my center. Her thumb circled over my nub rapidly, conjuring up a twisting feeling just below my waistline. I was close and I worked my digits into her five times faster to teeter her onto the edge with me.

"Fuck, Santana. I think I'm gonna...I'm gonna—"

All at once she came undone by the curl of my fingers nudging that spot that was rougher than the rest of her walls. With a final flick of her thumb I began my own ride over mountains, cliffs, _everything_. Brittany shuddered beneath me and her walls quaked around my fingers. I covered her mouth in a kiss to muffle my own sounds from the thin walls of her bedroom. The muscles in my legs weakened until they felt completely liquified. A wave of heat washed over my skin and quite possibly incinerated Britt's as I laid upon her, too drained to do anything else.

I breathed in her smell and exhaled out to steady my pulsating heart. Brittany stroked lines up and down my back and drew breaths over my shoulder. The silence was deafening but content. We didn't need to explain just yet. I wouldn't have minded if we didn't explain at all. This whole thing was pretty self explanatory...

"San?" Brittany asked after a beat.

"Yeah?" I murmured against her warm skin.

"I had fun tonight. Not just this, but everything today."

"Me too, Britt Britt. Pretty kick ass wedding...even though it seems kind of blurry now."

"You had fun though. I watched you," she said, playing with my hair. "You danced with everyone at the reception. You even grabbed Mr. Shuester's butt a couple of times."

"I did? Oh my god that's embarrassing," I bemoaned, placing a hand over my forehead.

"Don't worry," Britt assured, taking my hand down. "We got you out before he could really grasp what was happening."

"Thanks, B."

"You looked really beautiful tonight, Santana." My cheeks warmed.

"So did you." I trailed a finger down her ribs.

"I know, you told me in the car."

"I was still pretty wrecked back then. But I'm telling now, B. You look beautiful."

The words just seemed to tumble out by the load. Maybe I was still under the influence, or maybe it was the post amazing sex we just had; I don't know. But when I uttered those words, I felt them truthfully in the pit of my stomach and in a region of my heart. Brittany failed to respond because I'm pretty sure the smile on her face had frozen her lips.


	10. The Word 'Best Friend' Redefined

**Author's Note: I want to apologize like crazy for leaving you awesome people all so high and dry. I'm in the process of moving big time to Seattle. It's happening in a matter of days and I haven't had internet. There were a number of drafts in work for this damn chapter but after a minute I just said screw it, write whatever the hell you want to write so that's what I did! I want to thank you all for your reviews on my last chapter. You're all wonderful. This chapter was supposed to be longer much longer so I guess the next chapter will be a continuation? I just wanted to throw this out to you, to give you SOMETHING. Won't have internet for a bit but I plan on continuing to write even without it so I'll be expecting to hear what you have to say (through my phone of course, the wonders of technology). This chapter was meant to show a change through time for Santana and Brittany. I love backgrounds. Takes place a few weeks after the wedding. Hope I made good on this one. **

* * *

><p>Chapter 10. The Word 'Best Friend' Redefined<p>

To say I enjoyed stealing was an understatement. Stealing was an art, a passion, and a challenge to never get caught. No one ever caught Santana Lopez. Emilio Lopez once told me, "if you want something, take it. Don't let anyone tell you you're incapable of having it." Now that I think about it I'm pretty sure he directed that statement towards my mother, which is gross, but I'm choosing to ignore that part. The point is I began taking my father's advice in the early stages of my childhood. Shit's addicting if you ask me.

It all started at age seven when I took my first candy coated, rainbow necklace—a thief who knew no bounds, I was only taking Daddy's advice. What was so wrong about that?

Age 11, turned out to be an interesting year for me. Settling into middle school as a 6th grader was difficult and making friends proved even harder. I had just managed to scoop up a circle of girls from my soccer team as friends and I needed something to push me to the front of the pack. Apparently swiping a pair of earrings from a local boutique showed boldness—a conflicted thief with a developing conscience but it couldn't come fast enough. Popularity mattered more. Santana Lopez was a trend setter, a leader at birth. First impressions were _everything_.

At 12, I spent my time in the dressing rooms at like, the only mall in our town, fitting "borrowed" summer clothes inconspicuously underneath a thick hoodie—an amateur thief who still couldn't figure out how to remove those damn security tags. So annoying.

By 13, I was _that_ girl; the one who waited on the balls of her feet for the opportunity to sneak into her parent's wallets—a rebellious thief who often claimed she was just rising to Lima Heights' expectations when really all she wanted was Daddy's attention.

At 14, I managed to steal a sterling silver Tiffany & Co. bangle and I can say for once in my life my intentions were beyond pure when I fit it into a decorated Christmas box and handed it over to Brittany—a thief who would do anything for a certain blonde's smile and approval. I got both of those things that night. The look on her face made the hassle worth it. So worth it.

By the time Britts and I settled into Mckinley, I wasn't just a thief anymore; I was an expert fucking larcenist. Boys were the new Tiffany bracelet. We wore them on our arms and dangled them shamelessly with a sense of ownership and pride—just the pretty ones of course. And if you were _too_ pretty, we used our bodies to "degay" you. And if you refused to be "degayed", we disposed of you. Simple as that.

Now fast forward a year's time to present days. I'd made a full transition into HBIC at Mckinley. Sure I had competition from Q but that never really shook the influence I already had over the other kids. Although my reputation had experienced a series of mud facials in the past, it never cracked. Santana Lopez never did either. People feared what they didn't understand and they were smart to clear the way for me. But of course Brittany understood more than I expected her to. Fear had no place in our friendship even with all of the titles I had acquired over the years. Santana The Slut (how predictable). Santana The Bitch (obviously).

Santana The...Girlfriend Stealer?

I didn't know how I felt about that one.

I shared my adolescence with Brittany. I had the privilege of watching her transform from a young, naïve, Disney adoring girl with stringy limbs to a stunning, ripened, young woman with a body that had grown in all the right places. Her silky hair had slipped past shoulder length and all of the girls at school envied it; touching whenever possible. I was one of them. After her braces had been removed, Brittany's teeth gleamed like the sun in every instance that she grinned. I made it a habit of making her laugh whenever the opportunity arose itself because well..._look_ at her. Rainbows and fucking sunshine burst free every time she opened that pretty little mouth. That kind of shit was utterly contagious.

Over the years our lives had simply melded together. We _lived_ at each others houses. When we weren't listening to Bing Crosby play softly in the background over a serene Pierce Christmas dinner; Britt and I were getting buzzed at annual Lopez New Years Eve parties because everyone was too elated by the midnight countdown to monitor the champagne fountain.

Being Brittany's best friend offered me a chance to experience all of the liveliness she had to offer. We would hold hands in her mother's jeep on rides home from junior high parties in Matthew Bilson's basement; back when B's curfew was still nine o' clock. Those rides were always entertaining when every second became a struggle not to burst out laughing at Brittany's "focus face" because we were drunk off of wine coolers and she didn't want her mom to know.

As we approached our teens, things got even _better._ Brittany and I, we had matured significantly—_especially_ her. Britt had grown out those gorgeously long legs which in turn made her look even more grown up than she already was. And _I_ liked that. I must have used every excuse in my large book of bullshit to touch those legs. _Brittany, you need more sunscreen. Hey Britt, you've got something on your knee. Are those your new leg warmers? Let me see._ We started breaking Britt's already flexible curfew to hang out at _real _parties with _real _alcohol. And need I mention, _older _boys. Mrs. Pierce's driving services were no longer of use to us. That turned out to be beneficial for the both of us; Brittany didn't have to burst an aneurysm over playing sober and I could pretend to be as drunk as I wanted to get her to touch me. Cheap way to cop a feel, I know, but the younger version of myself had no idea how to turn the sexy on. But needless to say, by our teens, we had reached _that _stage in our relationship.

It all started at cheer camp. Doesn't it always?

Our first kiss occurred under a cabin roof, in front of the eyes of a young and very different Quinn Fabray. Britts and I were 13, on our second year at Camp Spirit and Quinn was the new girl who had just moved to Lima. Brittany had been reading an article in _Cosmo_ about girls who bit their boyfriend's lips when they kissed and how it drove them wild. When we decided to test out this theory, I claimed all I had come out of it with was a bruised bottom lip. I dismissed the kiss, feigning sheer boredom. Later that night, Brittany crawled into my bunk and kissed me again just to show me how boring it really _wasn't_. Nothing remotely boring about it when she bit a little softer and a moan escaped my lips. That same summer we left camp in a hurry to avoid missing Nana Pierce's funeral. That was the year I vowed to protect Brittany from the pain I saw so evidently in those eyes. I never wanted to see it again. Melancholy didn't suit her.

I, however, did.

We tiptoed around each other for the duration of our camping experience (and then Brittany caved). Unbeknownst to Quinn, Britts and I experimented three feet away from her bed, all summer long after that. Things cooled off significantly as we eased into our first year of high school. We established our rank by joining the Cheerios and the rest was history.

By spring break, one could say that _I_ was history.

The Pierces—well, Brittany mostly—invited me and my family to join them on their spring break trip to Florida. Daddy of course complained, announcing he didn't have the time for a vacation and that he was already dark enough and didn't need anymore tans. To this, Brittany concurred, claiming that my father bared a strong resemblance to Al Pacino in _Scarface _(The look on Daddy's face was priceless). Quinn and her family were invited as well, but Russell Fabray politely declined for his whole house. Something about not wanting his daughter exposed to the "hedonistic nature" of South Beach. I find that quite ironic since a year later The Fabray's pride and joy wound up exposing _herself_ to the hedonistic nature of Puck's dick. Whatever. Long story short, where ever Emilio Lopez went, Eva followed, and so I took the trip with the Pierce's riding solo.

Britts and I spent our days lounging on the warm sands of South Beach. We flirted with lifeguards and devoted hours to making the perfect sand castle for Brittany (leave it up to her to want a life sized one). A good portion of my day was consumed with discouraging Brittany from topless sunbathing. It was for my sake, really. Dry humping ones daughter in public would not look good to the parents. I'd already had enough temptation with Britts and I sharing our own separate, adjoining room. It also didn't help that Brittany came in from the beach one day terribly sunburnt, further obligating me to smear Aloe Vera _all over her body._

And then it happened one day.

We had just come back from a midnight swim. High tides were in and the water like ice without the sun beating down over it. She caught me fresh out of the shower. Like, literally, I had _just _put the towel on. And then some how I found _her _hands _in that towel_. Her kisses were different. Mountains of confidence crumbled down into them. Before I could question the thick atmosphere, we were stumbling into the room, touching each other in a way that could _never_ be passed off as experimental. We _knew _what we were doing. We were beyond studying now; we had aced that anatomy course long ago. We never even made it to the bed, our self control withering away right there on the maroon shaded floor. I came out of that experience with two things: my first orgasm and a hell of a lot of carpet burns to show for it.

Now with all of that history behind us, look me in the eye and tell me Artie had Brittany from the get go.

That's what I thought.

Santana The Best Friend Brittany's Ever Had.

Hm, I like that title a little better.

**xXx**

I stirred to the intrepid trace of icy fingertips and a whisper on my skin. I could feel Brittany's body heat emanating off of her from underneath the sheets. Her legs were tethered to mine in an effort to keep warm. The pads of her fingertips drew across my bare hip, up the side of my abdomen, over my shoulder, and past my neck. Her touch instantly warmed me.

After a gruesome session of Cheerios practice, I had decided to spend the night at Britts. We participated in our nightly massaging ritual and popped in some Sweet Valley High to fall asleep to. Neither of us were really _that _sleepy. Before I knew it we were tearing each others clothes off and Brittany's name became a mantra on my tongue for the remainder of the night.

"Wake up sleepy head," she breathed into the hollow of my neck while combing a path through my hair.

I reveled in her proximity and leaned in to her touch. Her cool feet tickled mine.

"Mm wake me later, B. I needs my rest," I mumbled incoherently. I didn't even bother to open my eyes. We were up the whole night. When did this girl sleep?

Brittany quit massaging my scalp all together and untangled our legs long enough to straddle me. _That _got my attention. My eyes fluttered open to meet the most brilliant shade of blue. I took in her morning appearance with curious eyes. A turquoise Mickey mouse tee she'd bought last summer at Disney World clung to her chest. Contact of bare thighs notified me that the only barrier between us came in the form of underwear. Perched over me with her eyes downcast in a smolder, Brittany had never looked sexier. Even her bed head was hot.

I reached out to bunch the hem of her shirt in my fist. "This is cute," I told her, staring at her chest where Mickey was; more than aware of her lack of a bra.

"You're cute," she responded almost immediately.

I didn't fight the smile that jumped across my features. Her fingers tip toed over my stomach and the black tank top I sported.

"So did you really just wake me up to compliment my gorgeous mug?" I asked with happy conceit while running my palms up and down her thighs.

She shook her head. Her hair spilled out over her shoulders. I gave it a playful tug. She smiled. I gulped.

"I want to play," Brittany announced with a new spurt of confidence that severed any willpower I had left. It was a demand, not a request.

I never had a chance to comply. Brittany struck hard and _fast. _Her legs squeezed my waist, effectively pinning me in place. She wasted no time unleashing her delectable assault on my lips. I curled my fingers around the nape of her neck to pull her over me completely. A faint darkness engulfed us as she pulled her comforter over our heads to shield our bodies from plain view. With each subtle adjustment of our bodies, her hips pressed into mine. Exactly what I was going for.

Brittany's lips parted mine with little effort and her tongue invaded in the most wonderful way. That pink muscle skimmed mine fleetingly with the motive to tease. There wasn't a soul on this earth that was better at _that._ With the lack of space between us under the comforter, I drowned in her scent. Couldn't have gone out a better way.

I laid my hands on her waist for support as I curved my hips up, lifting Brittany so suddenly that she broke our kiss and squeaked. Cutest sound I've ever heard. The gravity of her weight settled us back down into the mattress where she weaved her fingers through mine and pressed them on either side of my head.

Brittany directed her lips to my jaw where her murmurs tickled my skin. "You've got to stop moving like that. You're making me insane."

I suddenly became a little more aware of the fact that this was the _morning. _Mr. and Mrs. Pierce were most certainly still dozing down the hall or preparing to start their routines. We weren't doing a good job of being discreet.

"I'll stop if you want," I told her seriously. I half expected her eyes to mirror my concern but instead I received bedroom eyes. Damn those bedroom eyes.

"It's okay. Everyone already thinks I'm a little nuts. Nothing wrong with speeding up the process," she said with a hint of mischief breaking through her gaze just before she crashed her lips back into mine.

The kiss made all my worries shrink up and fizzle out onto the floor. She gave my hands one final squeeze before releasing them to busy herself other places like under my shirt. I inhaled sharply at the invasive cold but soon began to broil from the familiar ache she triggered between my knees. I spread my legs to welcome her wedging thigh right where I needed it most. Her stroking tongue did nothing to relieve me of the heat. I played with her tip and circled around the den of warmth, making myself at home, exploring her mouth with some new confidence that had soaked through my shirt in the past ten minutes.

Brittany's hand skimmed over my ribs, abs, and chest where she tended to a nipple long enough for me to bite her lower lip with a carnal need that had begun to take its toll. I had forgotten how good it felt to breathe when we finally broke apart. By that time, we were gripping for anything and everything of each others, needing to be closer, needing to just _melt _like burning wax. Brittany's wedged thigh did wonders when she undulated herself against me. The look in her eyes told me she was ready and I imagined the look in mine told a similar story.

"Put your hand in my underwear," I whispered so hushed that the words probably fell away before they could even reach her.

"Now?" She asked much too innocently.

I rolled my eyes to the top of the comforter. "No Britt, tomorrow, _yes right now._"

She smiled down at me with a teasing glint in her eye. I got the feeling that she only asked me that so I'd be forced to say it again for her hearing pleasure. The fucking Buddha of teasing, I swear.

The encroaching hand that disappeared into my underwear shut me up fast. My brain had scrambled and reverted until I was just a babbling mess underneath Brittany. She used her index and middle finger to split my folds gingerly, exploring an inner fire that threatened to consume the entire bed. She stroked the length of me slowly, noting each time I gasped, memorizing each pitch when she crossed over something sensitivity. I loved it. I loved how she knew what to do. I loved how she looked so fucking brilliant doing it. Brittany was so _smart_. Sexy librarian smart. Hot for teacher smart. Did I mention she's really sm—

"Oh my fuck," I groaned with my entire being as she wasted no time inserting two fingers.

She stilled briefly to allow my body an adjustment period. But I wasn't having any of that. I reached up to pull her close and nip her lip hungrily.

"Move for me, B," I practically growled.

And she did, skillfully so. Her fingers pulsed through me with excessive speed. I felt _everything. _The way she slid past my walls and circled two fingers over my clit had my body humming tunes. I licked my lips just in time to meet hers for a kiss I wasn't willing to end. I teased her mouth open and stole everything I could take. My hand snuck up the front of her shirt where I left a trail of nail marks over the taut stomach. I'd kiss it better later.

A familiar tug began to control my movements. My body no longer listened, it just _did_. I bowed my hips off the bed with her strong thrusts. I felt the orgasm approaching and all I fucking wanted to do was ride it out until my body couldn't feel anymore; burnt out like an old fuse. I wanted Brittany to burn me out. But I was already on fire. Like, literally. Our enclosed space became suffocating. Brittany was too caught up with grinding my thigh to notice but with my breathing already coming out in gasps, how could I ignore it? Too fucking hot under here.

"I'm all for the kinky shit, Britt but I really don't plan on asphyxiating before I come," I panted.

"I love it when you talk dirty," she breathed into my ear.

I ignored her comment and threw the comforter back to inhale fresh air.

A cold draft suddenly wafted over my blazing skin.

"Holy fuck." My voice deadpanned and I froze.

There at the door stood a pint sized Brittany clad in a green soccer jersey and the shorts to match.

"What's wrong?" Brittany asked me, utterly confused.

Her eyes followed my line of sight and she gasped before tousling the covers around us to block her sister's view.

"_Alison Nicole Pierce_." I had to wince at the severity in Brittany's voice. "_What_ do you think you're doing in here?"

The smaller blonde's eyes were saucer sized with fear. She looked so much like Brittany the day I had first met her that I could have sworn I was watching the past.

"I know you said not to come in if the door's closed but it's your day to take me to soccer practice and if we don't leave now I'll be late and coach will throw me off the team and then I'll—"

"We get it," I snapped, effectively stalling out her Rachel Berry-esque rant. "I'll take you myself so you can go all _Bend It Like Beckham_ or whatever on your teammates, alright short stack?"

"We'll be ready in 15." Brittany nodded eagerly, encouraging her younger sibling's dismissal.

Ali grinned up to her ears at us. I stayed stock still. An awkward air spread through the room. My heart bounded. Fucking hell, just go goblin.

"What were you guys doing anyway?"

The question made my stomach drop. She had directed it at _me_. I glanced over at Brittany but found no safety there. I tried to avoid the penetrative stare of the 8-year-old. I worried Ali's eyes were just as inquisitive as her sister's.

"Um...we were just...wrestling."

I watched the girl's eyes inflate even more with size. I wanted to slap myself. We were so fucking _busted_.

"Who was winning?" Miniature Brittany asked enthusiastically.

"Me," Brittany answered smugly. I shot her a disapproving look.

Alison moved deeper into the room. Nervously I fidgeted with my hands. _Don't come any closer. _

"I love wrestling! We should do a handicap match. Me and Santana versus _you_, Brittany."

What? No. God, kids are so ADD.

The girl approached Brittany's bedside, excitement alight in those baby blue eyes. It took me a minute to realize she planned on belly flopping into the bed _with _us.

"No!" Brittany and I yelled simultaneously.

Alison froze and took a step back to place her hands behind her back with that kicked puppy look Brittany wore when she wanted her way. Definitely share the same genes.

"You have your cleats on, Al," Brittany reminded her gently. Even I softened a bit. She had that effect.

"Okaaaaay," the smaller girl bemoaned and proceeded to stomp away.

"Be ready for us when we beep the horn, blondie," I called after her retreating figure.

"And Ali?" The little girl turned in response to her sister. "Don't tell mom and dad about this. They hate it when Santana and I wrestle."

The 8-year-old gave her a resolute nod and shut the door on the way out.

I collapsed back on the bed and released a long held breath.

"I really need to remember to lock that door," Brittany muttered before dropping a kiss on my forehead and bouncing off the bed.

I listened to the tap turn on in the bathroom. The streaming sound of water echoed into the bedroom where I remained, still in my underwear. I took to filling my lungs with the deepest breaths to control the anxiety swimming throughout my chest. Sure we had covered okay but an inkling of panic stuck to the roof of my mouth as I voiced my concern.

"Do you think she saw anything?"

The gushing water of the facet ceased. Footsteps padded out from the bathroom. Brittany stood at the door with a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. A collection of toothpaste foam had smeared over the side of her cheek. It was distractingly adorable.

"Nope." The confidence in her voice failed to put me at ease.

"How do you know? You weren't even paying attention," I said irritably.

"If I recall you weren't either," she replied sheepishly before slipping back into the bathroom to rinse.

I placed a clammy hand over my forehead. Brittany returned to me moments later. I watched her dress out of my peripheral vision. And then I sat up quickly realizing she _was_ _getting dressed_.

"Britt, you can't just leave me like this."

"Leave you like what, silly?"

I gestured towards my body. She cocked her head to the side. I bit my lip out of irritation. "Frustrated."

Her mouth opened to make a little "O" shape and then she smiled at me.

"Well there's always the drive to the soccer field. We can be all naughty in the front seat while we blast Ali's Hannah Montana cd," she offered nonchalantly.

I couldn't help smiling. Leave it up to Brittany to find a plausible solution. I searched around me in circles before turning back to her.

"Where are all of my clothes?"

Brittany shrugged. "I think Lord Tubbington has them. He's gone up a few pants sizes, you know."

"Don't see how I could have missed that," I mumbled to myself as I began rummaging through Brittany's drawers for a pair of pants.


	11. Enlighten Me

**Author's Note: Sorry for this annoying little wait guys. I finished moving up to Seattle so I can finally _relax. _I didn't even know what that meant a week ago. Everything's good now. One thing that's irking me is my pace. I feel a little slow in my chapters and I hate that so I'm gonna work on breezing by episodes but without cutting chapter length. This fic isn't all about the canon. I like to show more of what happened _while _canon happened too. This chapter I enjoyed because it allowed me to explore some things that gave some characters more depth. I loved writing the dialogue too. Glad Glee's back on FOX and so far so good but last episode the music was kind of lacking. The music is the reason I watch besides the awesome characters. Anyways, you guys left some great reviews last time and I need to say it again it means A LOT. I'm not a greedy person, never have and I will never will be. But just knowing that at least a handful of people appreciate my writing? It's flattering. Also I just want to shout out Drew55 who reviewed throughout the story while reading it in a sitting. Your reviews make me smile! I hope you guys enjoy the chapter. **

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><p>Chapter 11. Enlighten Me<p>

Eject. Eject—shit, wrong button. Okay, there. _Santana don't. _Just roll it down a little further. _That's mine! _Ignore the cries of weeping children and just do it. _Clank, clank, clank. _Hallelujah.

"That was my favorite Hannah CD!" A whine.

"I can't believe you just did that, San." A reprimand.

Out of my side mirror, I took in the marvelous sight of the silver underside of the biggest monstrosity of music ever known to man flip and drag along asphalt. Much better.

I felt two pairs of baby blue eyes shooting icy daggers into my neck when I leaned my head back into the car. The one in my rear view mirror, I wasn't too worried about. But the one to my right? That one summoned a demon of guilt that could easily lash my stomach into submission. I donned my queen bitch smirk and set my jaw. Not giving in this time. Throwing an eight year old's CD out the window is completely dignified.

"What?" I asked these power twins whose gaze seemed to sneak up on me and slip into my skin. "I just can't listen to Miss Carolina sing about the wonders of being bisexual anymore."

We'd listened to "Best of Both Worlds" twenty times. Twenty. Fucking. Times. I can't even—

"My CD is ruined! I spent my entire allowance on that CD!" Pint sized Polly Pocket shrieked into my ear.

She'd unfastened her seat belt and now deemed it necessary to balance a thigh on the center console of my car where she waved her hands manically at me. In between trying to keep us from smashing into the Prius in front of us and avoiding Brittany's half wounded, half pissed-beyond-recognition-that-I'm-sure-I'll-never-see-her-naked-again-face, I think I did okay. That is...until Britt unleashed the full weight of her stare and I felt a little quiver in my thighs. Damn it.

I caved and stole a glance at the Pierce sisters. Alison's glare would have been so unconvincing if Brittany hadn't have been right behind her; backing that shit up. They were in it together. With just one look, Britt began to peel off my stoic mask layer by freaking layer.

So about that giving in thing...

"Christmas will be here soon, smurf. I'll see what I can do for you," I said with a little monotone coated on.

Brittany's gaze made my skin buzz, like electricity was snapping off of it. Inevitably she finally caught my eye long enough for me to get the memo. Not good enough. Let's do better.

I sighed my defeat for everyone to hear. "I promise I'll get you another, okay? Just...promise not to listen to it all the time. Listening to that shi—stuff is as damaging as sniffing glue in a paper bag."

The eight year old tossed me an a thousand watt smile before sliding to the back. God, she was kind of freaking adorable. How could I ever say no to either of these girls?

"And if you promise to leave a barricade of shoes in front of the door every time Artie comes over, I'll even consider hooking a girl up with one of those bedazzled microphones Rachel Berry loves so much," I told her reflection in my rear view. Beamed again. So easy to please. Brittany's palm slapped over my thigh. Ouch.

"Whose Rachel Berry?" Ali asked suddenly, frowning.

"An Israeli drag queen," Brittany answered without missing a beat.

I bit my lip to discourage the laugh forming in my throat and braked at a red light. My newly manicured fingernails tapped over the steering wheel.

"What's a bisexual, anyway?"

Nails stopped tapping. Um...

"It's like, abstinence," Brittany broke the silence while reaching over to nonchalantly change the radio station. "Like saying good_bye_ to your sex life."

Well you had to give her credit for trying...

"That's a sin in itself," I mumbled to myself and relaxed in my seat. Brittany looked up from the radio to smirk at me knowingly. I returned it. Seeing her naked is so still on the table for later. Maybe even _literally_ on the table.

I could see the wheels turning in the smaller blonde's head and I worried. That face wanted answers. Answers to sex. Kids were too curious. Alison didn't even know what abstinence meant. I sure as hell didn't have any siblings so what did I even plan on saying?

"Ah yeah!" Brittany piped up the second a Britney Spears song started playing. Dial turned all the way to the right. "Slave 4 U" hit the bass.

Wait for it...

Wait for it...

"It's Britney, bitch," both blondes voice's rang out at the same time.

Brittany turned in her seat to snap a disapproving look on her sister and narrowed her eyes.

"One, language. And two, I'm Brittany, you're Jamie Lynn."

"I don't wanna be the pregnant one!" Ali bellowed.

"You _won't _be the pregnant one, Alison. Babies don't come unless you ask the stork for them. They're kind of like genies but white and not Aruba or whatever," she explained this in an informative tone.

The logic there...I can't even bother to question it. Even with all the crazy things Brittany said, she usually sounded right. She believed it.

_All you people look at me like I'm a little girl  
>Well did you ever think it'd be okay for me to step into this world<br>Always saying little girl don't step into the club  
>Well I'm just tryin' to find out why cause dancing's what I love<em>

Brittany began gyrating in her seat in a way that made me force my eyes on the road. When I checked my mirror to look behind me, I found Alison doing the _exact_ _same thing_. These Pierce women, I swear. They seemed to carry the energy of a Red Bull truck underneath the balls of their feet; waiting for just the right moment to explode in self-righteous bouts of singing and hypnotic dancing that they only saw as fun. Unsurprisingly, their mother, Lea Pierce, was her own little rain dance goddess—free-spirited, lively, _enticing_. This was what it meant to wine and dine with the Pierces. They were these women who cracked open the vault of your heart and made you want to give them all your jewels. I gave mine willingly; fell prey to the charms. Don't regret it for a second.

You would think that Mr. Pierce would have a lot to keep up with, with three beautiful blondes taking over the house and all but Alo (short for Aloysius) Pierce could only be described as one thing: unique. Brittany's parents loved telling the romantic tale of how they met. Despite Mr. Pierce's sandy blonde hair and clear as day blue eyes, he had embraced the miniscule trace of Cherokee in his bloodline and took to living on a reservation to "find himself." Along his journey, he met Lea, or at the time Ayita (she had adopted the name after the meaning "first to dance"). Mrs. Pierce had no connection to Native Americans but she loved their lifestyle; she embraced it and in turn, they welcomed her. Alo claims it was love at first sight; Lea says that they tip toed around each other for weeks. The final product was a marriage ceremony on the reservation. The couple then settled down in Lima where they married officially with legal documents and all that. I imagine Alo's presentation of a ring on the reservation was about as fancy as a wound up tree root—they've upgraded since then. No woman can happily turn down a little bling.

They were the kind of couple who never fought; their biggest and single most argument being about Alo wanting to get back to his roots by taking Britt and Alison back to the reservation. Lea fought him tooth and nail on that one, claiming she didn't want to disrupt the girls' lives. That began their first and only separation in which Mrs. Pierce kicked Alo out. Instead of hiding out in a hotel, Mr. Pierce insisted on sleeping in the park where he could hear the birds. Luckily the separation didn't last long. These days they're about as close to Lima residents as they come—sort of. Mr. Pierce still refuses to wear ties and smells a little like patchouli oil; Mrs. Pierce wears her hair long and natural with a good amount of bangles on each wrist. They love burning a mass of incense in the Pierce home and itch for their weekend nature walks. I'd never seen a family more in tune.

_I'm a slave for you. I cannot hold it; I cannot control it  
>I'm a slave for you. I won't deny it; I'm not trying to hide it<em>

The bridge—Brittany's favorite part—was soon approaching and I knew what that meant: hip locking and popping overload. We'd be in a fender bender for sure if that happened—Brittany in her Britney mood isn't something you just ignore. I just got a new coat of wax put on; finishing the song is not an option.

"You know guys..." I paused to rummage through the side of my door for the CD I so desperately needed. "This _is_ my car after all. We should be listening to all of my jams, not fumbling around with the shitty—" Brittany snapped that relentless gaze upon me. I coughed my way through the mistake while praying I didn't blush profusely and corrected myself, "I mean, crappy radio."

While Brittany busied herself with counting every blue car that passed, I slipped the CD in unnoticed. And as Ali mumbled soccer plays to herself in an effort to memorize, I skipped over tracks until my ears picked up a faint voice engraved in a rawness that could only be described as...well, Morisette.

"What _is _this?" a squeaky little amateur voice asked from behind my seat.

In my rear view I met a curious pair of eyes.

"This, my dear, is Alanis Morisette. Say one bad thing and I will throw you out of the car," I said seriously.

I watched those eyes expand, swallowing my threat and heeding it.

"She's kidding, dork," Brittany commented half halfheartedly. She craned her neck to get a glimpse of the car two spaces in front of us. Was that blue or green? A cyan-y color? Definitely blue.

"Hope you brought your ear muffs kid, cause this song ain't no Kids Bop," I warned before cranking up the volume.

_An older version of me_  
><em> Is she perverted like me<em>  
><em> Would she go down on you in a theatre<em>  
><em> Does she speak eloquently<em>  
><em> And would she have your baby<em>  
><em> I'm sure she'd make a really excellent mother<em>

"You Oughta Know" supplied me with a balanced dose of sanity for a year straight. As a freshman, I kept it on a constant repeat when Puckerman used to cheat on me all the time. After a while that does something to you. It screws you in the unkindliest of ways actually and your self-esteem caves in like a wet cardboard box. Without this song I would have gone insane. Lorena Bobbitt insane. And then I realized the only way to make it stop hurting was to do it myself. Cheating fucking enlightened you—reminded you of everything you _didn't_ have in your relationship. Relationshits. I spared a glance at Brittany—were our sweet lady kisses enlightening enough for her?

A lawn of well groomed evergreen came into view. Little people littered the grass, running back and forth, bouncing soccer balls on their knee, and chattering to one another. I had barely finished parking when Ali swung the door open, snatched her small duffel bag, and ran out to greet her peers. She tossed a short "thanks Santana" over her shoulder and bounded off across the field. Britts and I leaned against the hood of my car, hanging back to observe the eight year old's behavior.

"It's kind of scary how alike you guys are," I said thoughtfully as I watched a group of girls crowd around Alison the second she chose to acknowledge them.

"We're totally twins," Brittany said matter-of-fact. "I'm just a giant."

My smile warmed up a degree. Pinky met pinky. Brittany peeled me off the hood of my car and crossed the field with me in tow.

**xXx**

Coach Diego had it going on. His face could have easily been cut from stone with those cupid bow lips and that sharply pointed nose. His frosty blue eyes stood out in contrast to his dark almost pitch black hair which curled at the ends. If you squinted long enough you could see the inch long scar running along the side of his chin. His smile made you wonder where he's been. And when Brittany pointed out how perfect the contours of his calves were, I had to cross my legs. Best eye candy ever.

"Is that Puck over there?"

And that's how you ruin a good time.

"Where?" I asked. My eyes searched around the field, seeking out a mohawk.

"There." Brittany pointed a finger off to the side near the parking lot.

Dressed down in combat boots, ripped jeans, and a black ACDC shirt, Puck stood next to his shit-mobile, smoking a cigarette. It was all very...Puck.

"What is he even doing here?" I mumbled before cupping my hands in front of my mouth and yelling: "Hey Puckerman, get your sweet ass over here!"

He found me almost instantly and for some reason his face brightened. It wasn't like we were still fucking each other or anything, but I'd reigned in the bi-polar act towards him for both our sakes—it made me look suspicious. The malice he once conjured up had evaporated now that Brittany glued me back together. A brief spurt of dementia—that's how I like to describe that odd emotional shift towards Puckerman. Sans the cheating and toolish remarks, he wasn't _that_ bad...right? Lets not get ahead of ourselves.

"Sup Lopez, Brittany," he greeted and plopped down on the bleacher row in front of us.

"Stalking us now, pervert?" I asked, kinking an eyebrow.

"I knew I shouldn't have let that spaceship probe me with that tracking device," Brittany said, frowning.

"Don't flatter yourself," Puckerman replied with a smile that touched his eyes. He pointed towards the field. "My little sister Abbey's on the team."

I looked over just in time to see a girl with dark black, shoulder length hair jog to the middle of the field near Coach Eye Candy. Like Alison, she wore a signature green and white soccer uniform. Don't let the cookie cutter look fool you, there was no question that Puckerman blood ran through Abbey's veins. Her big brother had indoctrinated the nine year old in the ways of rebellion early on. The girl played dirty; she carried a tom boy air about herself that said "I'm Abbey Puckerman and I will not hesitate to kick you in the balls." Puckerman enjoyed teaching her his favorite past times: pickpocketing, lighting firecrackers in the toilet, and of course kicking someone's ass. The girl had thick skin, for sure, but Puck still saw her as his _little_ _sister. _He'd chew through his own arm for the girl. The protective instinct only multiplied after Quinn gave her baby up. Abbey was all he had left. He would've been an okay dad. Maybe.

"I didn't know she played," Brittany commented with her eyes straight ahead, studying Coach Eye Candy's every move.

"She wanted to play pee wee football but they wouldn't allow it—fucking assholes. So I convinced her that kicking shins on the soccer field was the next best thing," Puck explained. I could see the pride swimming in his eyes.

I watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and I suddenly remembered something. "Where did you go after school yesterday? I waited for my churro all fucking day."

Puck turned around to look at me, that asshole smirk pasted over his features. "Had a hot Jew date."

"Really? Taking Finn's sloppy seconds _again_? Lets get creative here, Puck," I couldn't hide the contempt in my tone and I really had no desire to. "I mean, she wont even let you touch her tits, that can't be enjoyable. What do you do after wards to cool down? Play Scrabble in the living room?"

"Oh don't give me shit over this. Rachel's a good kisser, all Jews are. That whole librarian meets kindergarten teacher thing she's got going is hot," Puck defended.

"Are those argyle sweaters itchy? They look itchy," Brittany added. Her face couldn't have been more curious.

I raised a hand to silence them both. "Alright fine. But just tell me one thing...whose five o' clock shadow felt rougher, yours or Berry's?"

"Oh fuck off, Lopez," he said with joviality and I saw the hint of a smile. A laugh bubbled in my throat, Brittany's lips curled up into a grin, and soon we were all doubled over laughing our personal tensions away.

Coach Eye Candy's attention fell on us briefly. We probably looked incredibly stoned to him.

Puck composed himself long enough to speak again. "But anyways, it didn't last for long. I stopped her. It just felt..._wrong_. I'd already screwed my bro Finn once, I couldn't go through with it again."

I clapped in mock applause. "Congratulations Puckerman, you've officially grown yourself a vagina. It wouldn't matter how long you decided to suck face with Stubbles and Cream, you got his ex girlfriend pregnant. Finn still hates you."

"Well Rachel still hates you," he countered with vexing intent. "She rambled for hours about how you embarrassed her in glee club when you told everyone that you fucked Finn. And then she kind of just sagged into me...and made all these weird noises."

"That's called crying, silly." Brittany patted his shoulder.

Puckerman nodded in response. "Yeah, so I guess she cried for a while and then she told me I kind of still smelled like porta-jon so she doused me in Lysol. Then I held her some more."

I scoffed and tossed my pony to one side. "Whatever. It's not like Finn cheated on her with me. We did the dirty in that little gap of time I like to call opportunity. It's not my fault he wanted all up on this. He came to _me._"

"We should have just slept with him after Breadstix that one time," Brittany said suddenly. "Rachel wouldn't be as mad. She likes me more."

My mouth fell open in a gape. Puck's eyebrows lifted in surprise. Too much information.

"Wait a minute. You two planned on teaming up to get Finn in the sack?" Puck's tone was incredulous.

"No."

"Yes."

It never helped when your answers fell out at the same time.

Puck's eyes flicked between us and he raised his hands in question. "Way to leave the sex shark out in the cold! Where's my threesome?"

I yanked his arm down and made sure to sink my nails in deep. "Keep your god damn voice down, there are children around."

"Since when do you care about the well being of kids? Last time we took a trip to that mall in Columbus you held some lady's nine year old over the second floor balcony," he reflected back.

"He stepped on my Manolos." I shrugged.

"Was I there when you borrowed those?" Brittany asked with an innocence that made Puck and I look like vultures.

"Think so, B."

"I'm still game for a threesome. Think of all the things _we _could do. My bed is capable," Puck continued on with a filthy grin to wipe us down with.

"Kissing you is like kissing my cousin Randy," Brittany deadpanned.

Puck's smile faltered. "Is that...good?"

"It's gross," I told him. "It means _you're_ gross."

Puck cast a pointed look in my direction and I smirked, loving every minute of his agitation.

As practice unfolded, Brittany and Puck engrossed themselves in conversation over their siblings like two proud parents. Puckerman bragged endlessly about Abbey's speed and stamina which made her a perfect candidate for the position of striker. Brittany boasted with enthusiasm over the leadership skills Alison possessed and how they landed her the job of defensive mid fielder which acted as the backbone of the team.

"Been thinking about getting a bike. It'll totally boost my whole rebel without a cause look," I heard Puckerman say as he leaned his elbows on our bleacher row. "Might even impress Zizes."

I rolled my eyes in disgust. Lauren joining New Directions constituted as _two_ new members; she _had_ to be carrying another person in that ass of hers, she just had to. Just the image of Noah in the janitor's closet smacking lips with the blimp made my skin crawl. Buying a pair of steel toed boots just to kick Karofsky in the sorry nuts was still on my to do list. I needed some kind of compensation because Kurt skipping off to live out his _Boys Gone Wild: Dalton Edition_ fantasies with The Garglers had royally screwed us.

"Good luck with getting Zizes on the bike. That thing would tip faster than a capsized Titanic," I quipped.

"You can't compare it to that because I've never finished the movie. The chick I watched it with went down on me before Leo jumped," Puck replied casually before bellowing across the field: "Good job, Abs!"

"He looked like a sexy Popsicle by the end," Brittany interposed herself in the conversation. Her eyes landed on me. "Kind of like those peeled bananas you used to put in the freezer, San. What were those for anyway?"

"I think I know," Puck answered, tossing me a dirty grin. The blood in my cheeks betrayed me and I blushed without warning.

I punched his arm and he winced. "I was making fruit bowls, you creep."

"Sure, sure. So anyways, Zizes is playing hard to get. It's kind of a turn on. I love a chase."

"Sleeping with Shamoo is a hazard. Imagine if she was a top, you'd get lost in the mattress somewhere," I told him without a wink of sympathy. This was a true story.

Puck waved me off. "Oh please, the fatter the better. My boy Chuck told me fat chicks are always the tightest."

Brittany nodded, pulling her Cheerios jacket over her shoulders. "They are pretty cool, aren't they?"

In that moment I had the urge to just wrap my arms around Brittany in hopes that some of her tenderness would escape into my clothes and skin. Her delicacy made me want to shield her from all things wrong in the world. I had to sigh to release the rising furnace of flames in my chest and throat; exhale this spell of warmth that she'd cast on me.

"Hello, earth to Santana."

Puckerman's chocolate glazed eyes stared up at me.

"What?"

"You're singing that Amy Winehouse song for sectionals right?"

I nodded in confirmation, too paralyzed with excitement to make my tongue move correctly. Mr. Shuester assigning me a solo over Berry had been risky and an actual honor. I didn't admit it openly to anyone besides Brittany, but for once I felt proud to be in glee club. Getting the okay to sing "Valerie" had been the icing on the cake. Brittany was ecstatic too; I saw it on her face every time I sat in on her and Mike's practices together. It was our time to shine—Quinn's too. Although The Unholy Trinity may have cracked under the pressure of this year, we were excited to finally be more than the trio that swayed in the background as Berry sung another show tune.

"That's gonna be hot. I mean, it's basically about some chick who wants to sex up a ginger."

"Chickens can't sleep with cookies," came Brittany's reply. With our bodies already so close, I could hear her whisper a soft, "_idiot_."

I smiled and finally draped an arm around her waist until she leaned into my shoulder. I heard her inhale deeply and some part of me hoped for some reason that she was taking in my scent. That spell of warmth, she'd cast it again. And when Puck gave me a look of curiosity, I shrugged and told him it had grown cold, knowing damn well it was the opposite.


	12. The Body Tells No Lies But The Mind Does

**Author's Note: Whew! This chapter was a monster to write. It took on its own life and I was pretty much its bitch but it turned into something wonderful. I felt like I should dive a little deeper into Santana's home life and maybe even a little bit of Brittany's. The balls been rolling very nicely for me with writing and so I'm pleased that I managed to get this text monster out in a timely fashion. I meant to update on Sunday but some things came up and of course editing takes time. Anyways, I don't know why I always write author's notes. I guess I just like talking to my readers and all that jazz. A shit load of alerts for this story over the past week. Big thanks to everyone still reading. Leave your reviews as well, I want to know how I did and if I can improve! Enjoy guys.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 12. The Body Tells No Lies But The Mind Sure Does<p>

It's just a comb, Santana. Just a stupid blue comb. A "magic" comb. A stupid blue, "magic" comb...that Artie gave her. Jesus Christ, look at you. You're sitting here giving yourself premature wrinkles over a fucking hair accessory. Get a hold of yourself. You're going to sit here and you're going to tell your brain to shut the fuck up for once and you're going to stare at number 22 over there breezing through her laps and looking damn agile doing it and you're going to enjoy it.

And it_ was _enjoyable. Brittany looked ridiculously sexy out there on the track in her Fox racing gear. Her jumps were flawlessly executed and her speed out of the gate earned her that hole shot thing every time. Looked like a damn pro. I wasn't the only one who noticed. A group of boys crowding around a nearby bike trailer had taken an interest in Brittany the second trial races began. Not even the shroud of dust clouds billowing from the track could mask their apparent leers. And okay, so maybe I was eating this shit up too but I doubt Brittany would mind.

These races gave me a sense of exclusivity. I'd been following Brittany to this dust pit ever since I was a little girl—the sugar sweet kind, not the kind that kissed girls and shit. And yeah so I'll admit the rules of these races went straight over my head the minute Brittany suited up and all I could think about was what it would be like to get her in bed with just the jersey on. But that's not what mattered. This place was _ours_. Choosing racing as a hobby couldn't have been more perfect since the track, which just so happened to be in the middle of nowhere (like all places in Lima), rendered Stephen Hawking's visitation rights useless. Somehow Erkel Jr. had managed to roll his way (literally) into almost everything of ours. Realizing that racing would never be one of those times made me walk a little taller. At least I _could_ fucking walk. Did I mention that shit he pulled with the comb?

Brittany rescued me from the throes of another one of my injury plotting schemes when she approached on foot, pushing her bike along the way. Flecks of dirt covered her goggles and the rest of her body. My mouth twitched into a smile at her current state of dress; the dirtier, the better. Knowing Britt, she'd want to take a long hot shower after this. That was something I could definitely get on board with. After putting down the kickstand on her bike, she removed her goggles and helmet with a huff. In spite of the helmet hair and labored breathing, she still managed to look good. Riding over hills and shit did wonders for this girl. I inhaled, preparing a fluid stream of compliments when I noticed one of the leering losers from earlier closing in on us.

"Hey there," he spoke in a masked tone of maturity. From the looks of it, he couldn't have been older than a sophomore. "I'm Tyler." He extended a pale, hairless arm.

Brittany cocked her head to one side and painted on a halfhearted smile. I watched her take his hand in her own, giving him a brief shake. The kid held her gaze for just a little too long and his thumb brushed her knuckle just a little too much.

"She doesn't care," I blurted so fast I almost didn't hear myself.

"It's nice to meet you," Brittany rushed out, eager to avoid the conflict that was about to happen here. "I'm Brittany and this is Santana." She unclasped her hand from his sweaty looking palms to unite ours and added: "My best friend."

I took a step forward, effectively placing myself in between the two. The way Brittany squeezed my fingers let me know that she was beyond grateful. Unfortunately he smelled like a farm and so I had to fall back.

"Oh, cool," he said breezily. I detected the hint of a southern accent. In my time spent glaring at his shiny face, I noticed a cluster of acne on his chin. He used his hand to brush that shit brown hair of his out of his dull looking eyes. "My friends and I were real impressed with your riding. I come here every weekend and I've never seen a girl as fast as you."

"Thanks," Brittany replied flatly. "I like to ride hard and fast," she stated, making it a point to look at me this time. I willed myself not to smile too wide. She always had a way with words.

The kid's laugh came out forcibly. He scratched the back of his neck for a minute just staring at us; the interlocked hands, the sexual innuendos, the way I looked like I was about to beat some ass. Didn't get the hint at all.

"So uh, me and a couple buddies are gonna set up in a minute for some friendly races. You reckon you could hang around to watch us ride a couple laps?"

Alright I'd had enough of this shit.

"Listen Backwoods Bobby, Britts and I have better things to do than watch a couple of hicks ride quads around and herd chickens, you feel me?" My eyes bore into his; his self confidence withered away. "But what you _could_ do is take this here bike up that hill to the blue truck over there. We clear, Taylor?"

"It's Tyler," he corrected with minimal eye contact between us.

"What the fuck ever," my voice rang out clear as day before I spun on my heel with Brittany in tow.

"Bye, Trevor," Brittany called behind her shoulder and waved. I pushed her arm down.

When we'd put enough distance between us, I took Brittany's helmet and placed her goggles inside. I pulled her body towards me so our hips practically touched as we fell in a suitable stride. I made sure to zero in on her ear.

"You were bad ass out there. So graceful," my hushed tone carried over. She seemed to be enjoying the way my breath swirled into the canal of her ear because she leaned in for more. "Your turns were really, really tight too. It was good, B."

Her eyes latched onto mine. "Thanks, San. I didn't think I was narrow enough for a minute but I pulled ahead." Brittany reached into her pocket and pulled that _thing _out. "It's the magic comb. I knew it was a good idea to bring it with me."

My grip on her hand loosened while the one around her helmet tightened considerably. "Yeah," I muttered. "Definitely."

We could just hear the last remnants of a heated phone call when we reached Brittany's dad's truck. Mr. Pierce really only drove the pick up in cases like this where Brittany's bike needed to be loaded onto the hitch. A teal and white Volkswagen camper had been his car of choice. It was damned hippiesh and smelled a little like hummus but he loved it; it had character.

Britt and I paused briefly, awaiting Mr. P to finish his conversation. He didn't look happy.

"What do you mean they're denying my design concept?" He asked incredulously into the receiver. "So what if it looks like a phallus! It's _art_. Do you not understand that? The structure is perfect for the amount of floors we'll have!" He combed a hand through his tousled, blond hair, listening to the person on the other end of the call. "Exceeds height limitations? Are you kidding me? Come on John, grow a spine, man." Mr. Pierce sighed deeply before simply setting the phone onto the hood of the car.

Faint curses resonated from the small device but Mr. P remained undaunted. He lifted the cop style aviators lining his nose to get a good look at us and strode forward to embrace us warmly. Mr. P was big on the hugging thing; the whole damn family was.

"Britt-Bear you were off the charts, kid!" He enthused. "Real smooth on the corners, honey. You snuck up on those girls like a shot of patron. Good job." Hell yeah to that.

Brittany's beam melted into her father's shirt pocket. He shook her shoulder excitedly with an elated smile pervading his easy going features. He released us with a good-natured push and turned his attention over to me.

"Glad you could make it, Miss Lopez. I didn't see you when I arrived," he said in an inviting tone.

I allowed a smile to filter through as I looked up to his 6'1 form. "Last minute Glee club rehearsals, Mr. P. You know me, gots to keep the pipes fresh for sectionals."

"That's what I'm talking about! Shuester finally got a hold of his sack long enough to put you girls in the spotlight," Mr. Pierce stated in an unabashed manner. My smile grew by the second. Dr. Lopez should be taking notes from this guy. "Lea and I will be right there rooting you on. Actually that was another thing. Did you want to ride with us, Britt-Bear?" He rounded on his daughter who now sat in the open truck bed. "I plan on bringing my sounds of the rain forest CD again. Though your mother made me cut out the chimp mating parts for Alison."

Brittany flashed a genuine smile. "I totally would, Dad, but I mean, since San's going, I'm kind of banking on taking the bus with the rest of Glee club."

I had to avert my eyes to hide the building enthusiasm at the fact that Brittany used my presence as a reason to even take the the shitty old bus. Something coiled in my stomach. A skipped palpitation in my heart. Hairs were on end. Drunk off the feeling of being special? Sure. Insanely flattered? Think so. Did Brittany have this effect on everyone? Of course she did.

"Well that's fine, sweetheart. I guess that leaves more room in the backseat to stuff in all the signs your mother's going to make," he said before his expression grew pensive and he stroked his honey blonde goatee. "Now I just hope Alison can breathe back there..." his voice fell off and suddenly he clasped his hands together, loudly. "Well! Let's get going."

"Wait, hold up." I raised a hand. "Where the hell is Joe Dirt with Britt's bike?"

"Right here," that southern drawl voiced from behind us. "I've been standing here for the past three minutes."

Mr. P shrugged at him. "I saw you. I just didn't wanna draw attention to your creepy leering at my daughter."

Brittany tilted her head to the side, studying him. "Santana says you're from the country. If you grew your hair out, you'd look like one of the Dixie Chicks."

I waved him off. "Thank you. You're dismissed now, Terrance."

The kid stalked off, kicking rocks and shit in his wake. Brittany hopped out of the truck bed to sidle up beside me. Mr. Pierce had already started locking Britt's bike in place on the hitch.

"Are your parents home?" She asked dangerously close to my ear. Her thumb stroked the outside of my forearm discreetly.

"Nope. House is all ours." I kept my eyes trained on Mr. Pierce. I lacked the willpower to meet her gaze. I feared the second I did, I'd end up taking her on this very dirt. Bad idea. Mr. P found all land sacred.

"Perfect," she replied hotly. I sucked in a gulp of air to settle the heat that had suddenly trickled down. With her father sitting just a few feet away, I took a step back from Brittany to compose myself. Get it together, you amateur. It's just sexual tension.

"Alright, all set and ready to go," Mr. P announced, clearly pleased with himself.

"I'm staying at Santana's tonight," Brittany told him defiantly.

"Okay. I'll let your mother know not to put out a fourth plate," he said, retreating to the truck. "Enjoy yourselves girls."

The engine coughed to life and Mr. P slowly began to back out. I cast a sideways glance at Brittany.

"Are you gonna tell him about his phone?"

Brittany shook her head. "He does this all the time."

Just before he'd made a full 180 degree turn, Mr. P braked the truck suddenly and jumped out. He snatched the cell phone off the hood and raised it in the air for us to see.

"I got it! I got it. Whew!" He wiped his forehead. "See this is what happens when you spend your entire youth in the psychedelic era. See you later, girls!"

With that Mr. P continued on his way. Brittany grabbed me by my Cheerios jacket and walked us toward my car.

"So where to now?" I asked her, stumbling over rocks as she forced me to follow.

"Home."

**xXx**

"If that door doesn't open in the next 10 seconds I'm going to take your underwear off right here on this porch and I'm not going to stop."

My entire body shivered under the weight of Brittany's threat. With her hands already underneath my skirt, tugging at the waistline of my panties, I couldn't do anything _but_ believe her. Sandwiched between Brittany's body and the door, I thanked hell and heaven that the porch light was off and darkness had fallen. I forced my hand to steady long enough to shove the key in.

"Seven...eight...nine..."

The door popped open freely and we stumbled into the darkened hallway. Brittany had me crushed into a wall within seconds and in a few more she'd taken claim over my mouth. With a little teeth, she forced her entrance and summoned her grand skill of kissing that made you forget your name in moments. She slid her arms into the warm confines of my jacket and some where along the line I just fucking melted. Her cool hands against my searing skin made me bite down on her mouth a little too hard but this Brittany didn't mind; she bit right back. There was a moment where our movements were similar to a seesaw. I pitched forward and she pushed back. The ache down below had grown painful, I just wanted her to fucking do something about it _badly_. I curled my fingers around her hair and forced her even closer. As if the fucking heavens had opened up she drew a hand down to slip under my skirt. She ran two fingers over my clit while pulling back to get a good look at my face.

"Go faster," my attempted demand came out as a squeak.

She kissed my pouted lips briefly and sped up over my panties. My hips shot forward to greet her hand. Her teeth pulled against my earlobe and I practically cried. The urgency of her and me and everything just made it so much better. I found myself wanting to hurry up and get off just so I could hurry up and get her off.

"Something smells good," she stated suddenly.

"It's you, trust me," I managed to pant. "You always smell like fucking flowers and shit. It's...oh god, it's amazing."

Was I still talking about her scent? I don't fucking know.

"No, I mean like, _really_ good."

My eyebrows furrowed and for a second a rage rolled through me when I noticed she looked more concerned with our surroundings than what the fuck was happening _right here. _

And then I smelled it.

"Lasagna! It's my mother's fucking lasagna," I whispered sharply.

"I thought you said no one was home," Brittany whispered back with just as much edge.

We separated instantly. Brittany brushed her hands on her motocross pants and I stripped off my Cheerios jacket. We tip toed to the kitchen, leaning our heads in cautiously. My mother stood over the stove in a classic white apron with her raven black hair pinned up.

"Mom, what are you doing home so early?"

She jumped just slightly at my intrusive voice and whirled around with a hand over her chest.

"I didn't hear you come in, mija."

"Really? 'Cause San was pretty loud—"

I clamped a hand over Brittany's mouth. Not even a second later I removed it after she started licking the palm. I gave her a pointed look and stepped further into the kitchen.

"I was at Britt's motocross practice," I informed her casually and then narrowed my eyes: "So what are you doing here?"

She gaped a little, mildly offended by my bluntness. "Well, I left the store early and had Claudia close up. Your father's coming home tonight and so I'm making him his favorite."

_That_ shocked me. My dad immersed himself in his work. When he wasn't out seeing his patients, he was in, piling through paper work. Coming home for dinner was a big deal. Hell, eating dinner together at all was a big deal. I straightened up despite my previous state of...disarray.

"It's good to see you, Brittany." Mom's face relaxed into an easy smile following her admission. She enjoyed Brittany's strange quirks and her overwhelming adoration for everything I did. "I assume Lea's still teaching those pottery classes?" She inquired with a kinked brow.

Eva and Lea's relationship was a strange one. They were polar opposites in almost every way but some how still managed to meet each other for lunch and make mud mask appointments together. If you ask me, my mother had a serious gay crush going on with Brittany's mom. The kind that lay dormant until someone's husband died and they were free to go full on L word. Like Brittany and I, they connected instantly. Not even the stern hand of Dr. Lopez could break that bond (he's a very jealous man). They were faithful women but women none the less; who didn't enjoy a little girl time every once in a while?

"Yes ma'am, every weekend," Brittany affirmed.

"I may just have to start attending those. I need a new hobby that doesn't involve a wine glass," my mom laughed to herself. Ain't that the damn truth. "Make sure you tell her I said hello."

Brittany ducked her head shyly. "Of course, Mrs. Lopez."

"We're gonna go up and shower—I mean, Britt's gonna shower because of the dirt and...stuff. We'll be back down in a minute."

"Take your time."

I gripped Britt's hand and dragged her out of the kitchen. We took the stairs two at a time and with finality I settled down on my bed to release an exasperated sigh. Brittany took her motorcycle boots off from the other side of the room.

"So much for having the place to ourselves," I mumbled and curled onto my side.

Something soft hit my head and obscured my vision. Brittany's Fox racing jersey. I sat up to receive an eye full of all her glory. She stood with confidence in her marine blue, Victoria's Secret push up bra that she once claimed made her boobs look just as big as mine—those things _worked. _Her motocross pants were unfortunately still in tact but not for long. Her hands fleeted over the buttons, each popping open with every second that passed. Those motocross pants that were now being pushed down her thighs. Those motocross pants that were now settling on the floor. My mind went blank when she pirouetted, showcasing her matching pair of girl briefs. I tried my best to form a dignified sentence but my brain had latched on to just one single word: sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Brittany placed her hands on her hips in defiance, clearly unmoved by the way I practically salivated over her.

"Fuck that teasing noise. _Please_ come here, B," I managed to find my voice in spite of its shakiness. I spoke a little softer: "I will not hesitate to chase you around this room if you don't come over here."

"Maybe I wanna be chased," she challenged.

I never shied away when she turned her back to me to pick up her pants. My eyes drank in every dip and curve shamelessly.

"If that's what you want," I replied lowly, staring at those impossibly sexy dimples on her lower back. "I'd follow you anywhere at this point."

"Really?" Her posture straightened and she twisted around to face me again with inquisitive eyes.

"Really, Britt. Now come here," I coaxed.

Our eyes locked and swam in a silent communication that only existed in these times. She gravitated towards me. I propped myself up on my elbows, anticipating her every move. Our legs brushed. She leaned forward and sunk her palms into the mattress on either side of me.

"Lie back," she commanded tenderly.

I relaxed onto the bed and she maneuvered her body to straddle me.

"Santana, come down here!" My mother's voice echoed into the room. I groaned with feeling.

"Can my life stop sucking now?"

"Go see what she wants. My shower will be quick," Brittany offered.

I groaned even more at that. Quick showers are off limits in this house, god damn it.

"I'll leave you some clothes," I muttered.

Britt lifted my Cheerios top briefly to place a small peck on my abs before she stood up.

"Thanks, S."

I sighed in response and watched her lingerie clad body disappear out the door to the bathroom. I made sure to leave out my most sluttiest ensembles: these cheer shorts from like five years ago that were only meant to be worn when you wanted to flash your ass cheeks and this white lace camisole that was totally see through in the light. When you lived like me, easy access clothing was everything.

Involuntarily I made my way downstairs. Mom bustled around the kitchen in an ultimate scene of multitasking; checking this here, testing that there, nearly burning something every where.

"You wanted me?" The question came out as a sigh.

"Taste this for me, will you?"

She shoved a wooden spoonful of soup into my mouth before I had a chance to comply. I tasted without much enthusiasm, silently cursing her for how she loved to interrupt my damn life. But it was good. Broccoli soup held a special place in Daddy's heart. Personally, I knew Mom actually hated the shit, but she'd try anything once if it made him happy.

"Good stuff. The cheddar really adds flavor," I told her, nodding my approval eagerly. I just wanted to get back upstairs. Maybe I'd still have some time. If I could just get away—

"I hope he enjoys it," she said with a knit brow. Worry stressed her faint expression lines.

I'd seen that look one too many times. On most occasions, Daddy could be an insufferable man. His expectations soared beyond skies, which made cooking a simple dinner seem like running a marathon. The pompous attitude spawned from none other than my grandmother. Legend has it (yes there were legends, she's that old and unfortunately still alive) that she intended on my father marrying a young girl who also planned on attending medical school. A college scholarship made it possible for a Lima Heights resident like my mom to attend the university. She and Daddy met in a chemistry lab course and the rest you could say was history. My grandmother cut Daddy off financially when she found out they were getting married. Still blossoming into adulthood, my parents relocated to an apartment close to Mom's old 'hood in an effort to remain stable. I lived the average child hood in the worst part of town with various cousins to watch my back due to being the youngest. The experience humbled Daddy significantly but it never stopped him from channeling that inner cavalier attitude.

I backed away and hoisted myself up on the center island. I took in the kitchen from a new perspective. Over there, that counter across from me, that's where Brittany and I shared our first kiss since she started dating Artie. That's where we denied it's existence and made a silent pact. A spindle of guilt threaded through my stomach. My eyes fell away. I turned my attention back to the woman who needed it most right now.

"Mom, stop checking the oven and look at me," I requested softly. She turned slowly. The expression on her face told me she was all ears. "He's going to walk through that door exhausted. He'll be in his grumpiest of moods and that's something you already know," I told her knowingly. She pursued her lips and nodded stiffly. "And then he'll smell this delicious meal and he wont have any choice but to forget everything that's happened today."

Mom breathed through her perturbed haze. "Your father and I have a very unconventional relationship, Santana. We hardly get to see each other. That's why I make sure to surround myself with friends like Lea," she explained. A twinge of sadness darkened her eyes. "I love Emilio with everything I am. These dinners, however rare, they mean everything."

My chest grew heavy from the weight of her confession. I wanted to place my arms around her, kiss her fears away, and whisper my devotion and appreciation in her ears. A shrill ring from the telephone stopped me. She answered in a rush and paused to listen. There were no hellos, just explanations. And just like that the moment fled from us. Her body wilted at whatever news was coming her way. That facade of self assurance had been stubbed out. She nodded into the receiver with compassion passing over her features. Then let down. Nothing but let down. The phone call ended in the same minute it began.

I watched that marble mask descend over her features. A mask I've used many times before. With robotic joints, she pulled out her signature bottle of Pinot Noir and poured herself a tall glass. Three sips later, she met my gaze.

"Your father will not be joining us tonight. He's working late again," she explained, little emotion filtering through. "Dinner will be ready in five."

In that moment Brittany sauntered into the kitchen wearing the clothes I strategically picked out for her.

In that moment I'm too sick to even smile.

**xXx**

I wanted this resentment to unhand me. He was my dad, he would never intentionally hurt the two women he claimed to love most in his life. Shit happened, people canceled. That never made it anymore fair. Dinner had never been quieter. Conversation fell on dead ears one too many times and eventually you just stop trying. Britts and I migrated to the living room after wards to watch some nameless movie; she watched, I stared.

"It's not his fault you know."

I sighed and fisted the blanket laying over our laps. "Yes it is. He needs a damn backbone. He should be able to tell his job no. He should fight for days off."

"San, it's your dad's job to help people. Just like Santa. Do you see him just taking days off? No," Brittany argued.

"Santa doesn't have a family to worry about," I muttered, glaring at the television.

"He has Mrs. Clause," Brittany insisted. "You don't think she misses her husband too?"

I sunk down into the couch cushions and ignored the way her fingers felt as they threaded through mine. "I guess, but he doesn't have a daughter to disappoint now, does he?"

It was Brittany's turn to sigh now. "He flies around the world every year. Like any man with a beard that long, I'm sure he has a few kids stashed away."

My laugh came unexpectedly. It was hoarse from not talking and maybe a little throaty but it worked away the tension.

A mechanism in the front door clicked and the floorboards creaked under pressure. Brittany and I turned our attention to the noise. The T.V. illuminated my father's already towering form. Intimidation rolled off of him like a wave when his stone cut face peered down on us. I took in his usual appearance with disdain. The complexion of his skin significantly contrasted the white, slim fitted, dress shirt he wore. His jet black hair had been slicked back and his beard was freshly trimmed. His formal attire irked me when I knew just yards away my mother slaved over dishes in the sink with her hair tangled into a messy bun and her hands pruning from the scalding water.

"Where is your mother?" He questioned. No hello, no explanation.

"Right where you left her," I replied numbly.

"And where's that?" He inquired back spitefully.

I held his gaze with a challenge. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted him to know how badly he'd hurt us by bailing. I wanted him to know that he shouldn't have bothered calling. I wanted to let loose the venomous words sitting on top of my tongue. He was my father and I loved him even through this pain but there were so many things he left unsaid. I wanted him to know that he should have tried harder. I wanted him to know we were still a fucking family and we were still waiting on him to become a part of it. And most of all, I wanted him to know that I hated his no compromising rule and how he said it was pretty much useless unless it favored him. I wanted him to know that that wasn't true. That it worked when you loved the person. I'd tried it once. I knew. My mother needed his compromise.

But these words stuck to the roof of my mouth like a coat of peanut butter. And I couldn't bring myself to hate him. I hated how he went about things but I could never hate _him_. His eyes softened first and it disarmed me.

"Just fix it, Daddy. All she needs from you right now is to fix it. You're good at that."

My anger deflated completely when he pulled a bouquet of white lilies from behind his back. Brittany breathed a soft "ooh" and touched a pedal.

"Whatever it takes, mija." He winked at me and kissed the top of my hair. I reddened at the gesture, feeling like a little girl again.

The faint sound of water running in the kitchen indicated where he should go. We watched him retreat into the shadows of the hallway with purpose.

"Not only is your dad like Santa Clause, but he's a magician too!" Brittany boomed excitedly.

"I hope so. He's gonna need to pull some serious Siegfried and Roy shit to get on my mom's good side."

Briefly we searched others eyes before simultaneously jumping off the couch to stalk after my father. We reached the kitchen just as the scene unfolded. With her back to all three of us, my mom scrubbed furiously at the dishes in the sink. With an unmistakable Lopez grace, Daddy snuck up behind her and held her favorite flowers out in plain view. Her shoulders instantly relaxed. His towering form scooped her into his arms like a fragile doll.

"I wouldn't have told you I was coming if I didn't mean it, mi corazon," Daddy murmured into her hair. "I'm really sorry."

"I tried my hand at pastelón," she replied bashfully, looking up at him through thick lashes.

My father's eyebrows reached his hairline. "I'd love to taste it."

He untangled himself from her arms and reached over to touch the lasagna pan. A dismissive hand slapped his away. If you blinked you would have missed it. Daddy rounded on Mom's smaller form but did nothing to defy her.

"Dishes first, then we'll taste," she dictated.

My father mumbled something under his breath and began to roll the sleeves of his shirt up. Together they began the nightly chore; Mom rinsing, Daddy drying.

"I think Mr. and Mrs. Clause need some alone time," Brittany whispered, poking me in the ribs.

We backed into the hall before the sounds of my parents getting their mack on could be heard. I shut the T.V. off and followed Brittany up the stairs.

I wasted no time stripping off my Cheerios outfit the second we entered my bedroom. I had my suspicions that Coach Sylvester's choice of polyester had been a malevolent test of the squad's will not to itch themselves raw. From the way Brittany openly gawked, I doubt she closeted any demur. I glanced over to see her stretch her lithe body and curl up like a cat preparing for an afternoon nap.

"I think I really like Mr. Clause," Brittany mused, resting her cheek on my pillow.

I tilted my head, intrigued. "Is that what were calling him now?"

She nodded briefly. A slumberous haze was taking over. "He's like a chocolate turtle; all hard and cold on the outside but warm and sticky on the inside."

I smiled at the analogy and threw a bold red, William Mckinley shirt over my head and stared at my reflection in the dresser mirror. This may have been Puckerman's but I still fucking owned it.

"That's Mrs. Clause's work. If my dad really were a chocolate turtle, she would be the flame melting his shell."

"Like me," Brittany spoke in a tone thick with sleep.

I watched her eyelids droop closed in the mirror and just like that her breathing grew heavy. When I was sure she was dozing, I answered back.

"Just like you, B."

I padded over to the bed softly with careful footwork. My pillow was clutched close to her chest. I draped loose cover over her body to fend off the cold. Her cell phone blinked to life on my nightstand. That Michael Jackson song pervaded from the device mockingly. I should probably just let it ring. But it was just so fucking _loud_. Brittany stirred. I glanced at the phone again. Why wouldn't it shut the hell up? You know what, fuck it. I snatched the phone and muffled the speaker. God damn how long did this ringtone last? I quickly thumbed in her code and the phone unlocked itself with a glaring announcement: one new text message. The ringing had finally stopped. And yeah, so maybe this looked a little incriminating. Best friends read each others texts though, right? It's not like you wouldn't hear about them eventually. Fuck it.

**From: Optimus Prime**

_I feel like I haven't seen you in days, woman. I know you're busy practicing with Mike now...but I still miss you. I was thinking we could go to Color Me Mine next weekend, you know, after we win sectionals? Hit your man up. _

I performed a long sequence of yoga fire breaths to calm me down. In. Expand the lungs. Out. Release the stomach. In. Expand the lungs. Out. Release the stomach.

In.

Out.

Expand.

Release.

That text needed to die.

I prompted the delete option and hovered a thumb over the button. In; Brittany loved Color Me Mine. Out; he couldn't take her if I took her first. Expand; she didn't even have to know. Release; I needed to stop this. Look at me; imposing on my best friend's relationship, reading her texts like a jealous ex boyfriend, scheming my way into her nest of approval. Was this all really necessary? Santana Lopez was bigger than this. She could walk away literally and figuratively and look damn good doing it.

I placed the phone back down in its original spot. Breathe in. Breathe out. I laid a chaste kiss on Brittany's forehead and circled around to the other side of the bed. I stumbled just slightly over Britt's motocross boots and I noticed her pants lying out on the floor. I leaned down to pick them up when I noticed that _thing _poking out of the pocket. That wide toothed, plastic accessory of torment. That little blue nuisance that festered my brain with echoes of a plastic relationship. I turned the comb over in my hands, just staring. My breathing had halted all together. I stepped over to my bay window and drew the blinds. The window squeaked in protest as I pushed it up. The comb soared out into my backyard with a satisfying whoosh. Deleting unseen texts was so below me. As for this? I guess I'm just not that big of a person after all.

**xXx**

"Santana, come on."

"I already told you I'm not doing it again."

"Please?"

"No, Brittany."

"Pretty please? With sweet lady sugar on top?"

"Keep your voice down."

"Only if you promise to do it."

"Fine."

"All together now guys!"

The Glee club broke out into an off key rendition of "The Wheels On The Bus" for the third time since we set off for sectionals. Don't tell anyone but singing was actually a welcome distraction from the thoughts that polluted my mind. She'd asked about the comb just a day before. The lie that caressed my tongue felt slimy and it left a shitty aftertaste. I considered taking it all back. I searched my yard for hours but to no avail. The damned thing really was gone. There were no do overs.

I noticed one particular falsetto happened to be missing from our group. Bass Mouth's absence in the song weighed down the vibe significantly. I shoved my heel into the seats in front of me.

"What the hell is your problem, Satan?" Quinn demanded, reaching around her seat to look at me.

"I'm sorry, I just noticed your boyfriend's lack of participation in this group number." I flashed my eyes at Sam. "When Britts tells you to sing, you gets your ass to singing, Aerosmith Lips."

"That's enough out of you, Santana. Don't make me move you," Mr. Shuester warned from a row up front.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, like that'll ever happen."

"Change seats, Santana."

I gawked. "You've got to be kidding." Mr. Shuester set his jaw. I shot him an icy glare and took the only seat still halfway vacant: Puckerman's.

"S!" Brittany called from across the bus aisle.

"What?"

"I miss you already," she said, making her hands unite into a heart.

Everyone stared for a minute. I shrugged them off. What the fuck were they looking at, anyway? A Cheetos bag crinkled from across the way. Zizes avoided eye contact.

"How is this any better than before, Mr. Shue?" I asked in an indignant tone. Puck's jeans brushed my thighs. My eyes flared at him with a warning. "And close your god damn legs, Puckerman. I can practically see your balls."

"Oh please. I could practically see your ovaries while you were sitting over there with Brittany," he countered.

I punched his arm in a blind rage that quickly simmered down when I noticed Mr. Shue's eyes on me again.

I huffed. "Where do you want me now?"

"Back of the bus," he instructed.

"That is so racist," Brittany whispered a little too loudly.

"Mm, don't I know it girl," Mercedes chimed in, flipping her hair.

Berry just so happened to be back there, listening to her iPod. Her eyes swelled to the size of planets when she saw me approaching. She ripped her ear buds out in a flash and spewed that word vomit shit we all hated so very much.

"Mr. Shuester is there any other possible seating arrangement? While I am currently enjoying my undiluted sense of seclusion, I'm afraid that if Santana chooses to sit here I may be burdened with the worrisome possibility of contracting something..." she took a breath and gave me a disdainful once over, "harmful."

I scoffed. "Bitch, please."

"No Rachel, there isn't another option. You girls need to work through your problems, especially if you're going to be performing together."

"Whose gonna keep me company now?" Brittany pouted.

Puck wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I'm sure we can figure something out."

"Don't be running up on my girl like that," Artie interjected from the front rows.

"Puck," I addressed him calmly.

He craned his neck to see me. "Santana."

"Unless you want me to shave that strip of pubic hair off your head in your sleep, I suggest you shut the fuck up."

Puck licked his lips. "Keep talking dirty like that and we'll have to pull over."

"Please do. I really have to pee again and I don't think this Fiji bottle can hold anymore," Mike stated, biting his lip, Tina rubbing his shoulders.

Brittany's eyes panned out to the size of golf balls. "I thought that was apple juice somebody left in the sun..."

The bus grew silent.

**xXx**

"You told Kurt?" Berry burst into the room, glaring down at Finn.

"I don't remember, maybe?"

"About Finn and Santana? No, I think I told him," Mercedes mumbled, looking up from her program pamphlet.

"Who told you?" Berry inquired.

Okay this 20 questions shit was getting old.

"Me," Quinn interjected. "I think Brittany told me...or maybe it was Puck."

"Yeah it was me," Puckerman confessed.

"Everybody knew about this but me?"

"Pretty much."

"Nobody tells you anything because A: you're a blabber mouth and B: we all just pretend to like you," I spoke condescendingly over my shoulder.

"That's not true, I kind of like her." I scowled at Puck and he shrank in his chair.

For the next 30 seconds the green room became Finn and Rachel's personal bitch stage. I couldn't give a damn. I had the lead singer of The Garglers on my mind. Yeah, so maybe he was too impossibly attractive to actually be straight but it never hurt to look. They were definitely our biggest competitors and with Boy George now playing on their team we were in serious trouble. We could hardly pull our fucking Glee club together and Artie wasn't making Brittany feel any better as he bashed her with allegations that she clearly didn't understand. Eventually Mr. Shuester came in to disarm the confrontation with a traditional pep talk that unwound our panties.

A couple of boys from The Garglers hung around backstage hoping for a chance to flirt with me. Neither identified with the raven haired singer I'd spotted prancing in his dancing shoes to "Hey Soul Sister" and so I tuned them out. A few feet away, I noticed Brittany sitting on her knees in front of Artie. I strained my ear's ability to eavesdrop. They were conversing over the comb she'd "lost". Artie smiled a little too much. Brittany leaned in a little too far. And then a kiss. A kiss that sent an irregular spasm through my stomach. Breathe, god damn it, breathe. An announcement signified that we were up. I bid a brief farewell to the boys standing a little too close and waited for Ken and Barbie's cue.

Out there I slipped into my show choir facade. Paint the smile on. Dance with calculated precision. Never deviate from what you know. And then the spotlight turned on me. Brittany and Berry were at my sides; pretending we weren't just sabotaging each other in the green room or fucking in the halls of my house. I could deal with that. Brittany touched a little too often; it was noticeable. But I knew it was her way of communicating with me. In spite of everything I'd just witnessed backstage, she wanted this to be _my_ moment. I embraced it. I poured every spindle of energy into my voice and into my body. I sang brief parts directly to her; an apology for adopting my father's cavalier behavior. I hoped she'd understand why I did what I did. In the end it didn't hurt her half as much as I worried it would. But I still needed to rectify it. Maybe not now, but later. I'd fix it. I was good at that. I just hoped she'd stick around for the cold. I needed someone there who could thaw out my shell.


	13. Naked

**Author's Note:** **Well hot damn it's been a while. I'm gonna start this AN by apologizing** **profusely** **for being such a terrible and I mean TERRIBLE updater. See I had this chapter mapped out (for a while) and then as I started writing it I realized it was a lot to cover. There's kind of another part to it but I needed to get this out because it's complete. FINALLY. I hate putting out anything not complete so finishing this was like a fucking dream (pardon my french). This chapter is a part of A Very Glee Christmas. I observed the episode and saw an opportunity to explain a lot of off scene happenings. This chapter has a swirl of emotions in my book and even had me a little wishy washy at times. I hope the length of this one makes up for it. But that's another thing to ask. How DO you like your chapters? Long? Short? Medium? Let me know. I appreciate all of your alerts and reviews, they put a seriously stupid clown grin on my face. Thanks for sticking with me guys. Enjoy.**

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><p>Chapter 13. Naked<p>

The imminent arrival of Winter break had us Cheerios breathing appreciatory sighs. For a few short weeks we were entitled to embrace the very essence of an average Ohio teenager. We were self-governed bitches who didn't need Sue Sylvester's blessing in order to covet that last cupcake or pass up the gym for another hour of sleep. We were free to consider parties and plan trips. And for once, nobody expected anything else.

With a band of Cheerios congregating around my locker, I for one, expected one thing: for them to haul ass. The sudden encapsulation of my personal space confined me to the metal familiarity of my locker. I'd somehow found myself ensnared into a vain conversation about skiing and boyfriends; a conversation lead by none other than Whitney. I swept my eyes over her for a blatant once over, taking note of how her pencil thin smile never once seemed to twitch out of place and how the hallway florescence gave her bottle blonde ponytail a yellowish glow that resembled—not gonna lie—urine. The color was unsavory against her tinted skin which suffered from an over use of bronzer. A "Cali Tan", she referred to it as. In other words: faker than my weave and a porn star's 'O' face put together.

These interactions with my fellow Cheerios were about as pleasant as pulling teeth. If I couldn't boss these girls around, what other reason would I have to talk to them? I fixed my sight down the hall, hoping—yes actually hoping—that I'd catch a glimpse of honey. Brittany, Quinn, it didn't matter. _Someone._

The wail that generated from the water fountain nearby alerted me of Puck's presence. Clad in his leather jacket, holding some poor kid's face underneath the stream, he could have easily passed for a greaser. Puck's thunderous laugh echoed down the hall until he looked up and found me. He surveyed the girls around me and the way my eyes grew wide in obvious despair. A silent minute passed between us in which I conveyed my distress; Puck zeroed in on it soundly. He shoved his latest victim into a nearby locker and made a bee line for us.

"Puckerone Express coming through!" He proclaimed with more volume than necessary, squeezing between various Cheerios, pinching asses here and there, effectively inspiring a blush or two...sometimes three.

Remember, this was Puck we were talking about here.

After each Cheerio welcomed his intrusion with an appropriate greeting, Puck leisurely laid a hand against the side of my locker. He donned a friendly smile that bared resemblance to a wolf exposing his teeth.

"Santana, you're looking rather...edible today." His amicable nature waned and he settled into his usual sex shark element, pawing at the hem of my Letterman's jacket.

For my part I relaxed into my locker and thanked him silently with a long held gaze. I found his well timed interruption endearing.

"Puck, I was just thinking about you," Whitney's resounded airily from the right.

I relented a smug look when Puck recoiled just slightly at the sound of her voice.

"Good things I'm hoping, Whitney," he answered without deviating his attention from my Cheerios uniform.

"Always," she said, waving him off. A couple of fresh meat Cheerios were nudged out completely by her efforts to move closer. "We were just talking about our winter plans and I was _just_ thinking about that party you threw last year."

"Fuck yeah, that party was legit." Puck's expression brightened. He nudged me with his knuckles. "Remember that night, San? It's all pretty dim to me now but I vaguely recall some dude sneaking a deer into the living room..."

"I think you tried to feed it _Cheetos_ out of your mouth." I winced at the memory unraveling in my head—just thinking about it gives me a hangover. "You were a fucking wreck, Puckerman."

I took a breath in preparation for this story. I would need it. "You pissed in every sink and medicine cabinet in the house, duct taped Finn to his truck, attempted to 'swim' on the sidewalk—which by the way, vaguely resembled molesting concrete—, fought a coat rack, and stole Berry's phone only to spend 30 minutes in the bathroom taking pictures of your dick."

When I finished, a complacent grin appeared on Puck's face. "Sounds fucking legendary. It's a shame I can't even remember half of it."

"I wouldn't blame you," I shrugged, "by the time it was over, I found you piss drunk naked in the bath tub with the lights cut off, swirling a flashlight around. You thought you were at a rave and said it was your strobe light," I reminisced with an amused smirk. "I put you to bed with a traffic cone that night. You refused to part with it."

Puck's Christmas party would go down in history as one of the best times Lima has ever seen. I certainly couldn't complain about it either. Especially after Brittany fucked me silly on the pool table in Puck's basement. Ah, memories. I still shiver a little every time I see an eight ball.

Whitney's forced laugh pricked our re-collective bubble. You could almost feel her transparent insecurities strangling the air. She all but shoved her dip of cleavage in Puck's direction. Look at me, acknowledge me.

"Totes getting my own case of flashbacks now," she interjected, flipping her hair to expose her neck. "I hate to miss it this year but my family and Andrew are going to Greek Peak in New York," the bragging tone couldn't have been any more revolting, "he's such an awesome skier."

She stood a little straighter—I heard that helps. Thank God for my boob job, I didn't need to puff at all.

"That's weird," Puck quirked an eyebrow, "he told me he was going to be brushing up on his hockey all break at Bowling Green State. You know, where all the hot figure skaters are training right now?"

An awkward pause fell over the group as a whole. Patiently, we waited on her face to reconstruct itself into an expression that better concealed her embarrassment.

Whitney blinked rapidly—keep that eye glistening in check. "That was probably before I asked him to go with me." She nodded reassuringly, letting that information settle. She didn't look too convinced. "You know what? I have to go. I just remembered I have some stuff to..." she faltered, spinning on her heel, rushing down the hall like a true Rachel Berry on the hunt for her secret hoarding boyfriend.

Puck's eyes remained glued on her retreating form for a second longer before shaking his head. "Thank the good Lord for Cheerios skirts. I swear I just saw her ass cheeks."

I offered him a smile and parted my lips to speak when I noticed our Cheerios had fallen mute. They were observing us with careful intent, preparing to rotate our pseudo-relationship around the rumor mill. I narrowed my eyes at their expectant faces, tossing a little HBIC into my glare and spat out, "Well? Scatter off to find your captain, leeches."

The spineless group of swine did as they were told. I swear, if they didn't have someone there to tell them how to breathe, they'd all have keeled over by now. Birdbrained idiots.

I allowed Puck's lingering hands for just a minute longer before I moved them away from my body.

"Enough touching, Fuckerman. What's the status on our Christmas decorations?" The bluntness of my statement should have been off putting, but instead Puckerman simply pushed off of the locker and leaned against it beside me.

"I already dropped off some of those empty boxes they have on display from Santa's Village or whatever."

I watched him casually extend his leg out to trip a passing AV geek.

"What about that shit we found in my neighbor's house?"

"Oh yeah, I left that in the choir room this morning. We probably should have looted more than just Christmas boxes though."

I shook my head, not bothering to blink in response to the string of curses exuding from down the hall where a girl from French club had just been slushied.

"Couldn't risk my dad seeing you," I told him truthfully, "he already hates you enough."

Puck glanced at me, a hand placed over his heart. "I thought your dad had a sweet spot for me."

"He does. In the basement," I added, lifting a cunning eyebrow. Puck shouldered me lightly. I spared him another look. "I need a favor."

"Please say it's a sexual one. I've been dry for weeks now. Lauren hasn't spoken to me in days," he admitted shamelessly.

I rolled my eyes. "Not my fucking problem."

"Oh but it _is_ your problem. The more time I spend waiting on Lauren to let me tea bag that double chin of hers, the more time I spend with you." His eyes openly wandered down my body. "As you know, I can be _quite_ badgering when I'm sexually frustrated."

"Then I suggest you spend a little time in Home Ec, Puckerman. The key to Zizes' heart is food. Lots and lots of food. You may even come out of it with some killer sewing skills."

His brows pinched together. "Why would I need sewing skills?"

"So you can sew Zizes a new pair of pants after her mountain of an ass eats the rest of the ones she already has."

As if on cue, Lauren came wobbling down the hall. I'd never seen Puck look so flustered as he shoved his hands into his pockets and straightened his spine.

"Hey, Lauren," he greeted coyly.

Clad in her usual red flannel and a Santa Claus hat covering her dull brown hair, Lauren's eyes surveyed Puck's physique in a similar fashion to earlier. But this one, oh no. This was the kind of look you gave a freshly cooked turkey on Thanksgiving.

"How's it hanging, Puckerman?" The monotony in her voice surprised me. It hardly matched with the way her eyes practically undressed him.

"Long and ready for you, baby," Puck answered back with his usual perpetual arrogance.

A dam inside me broke and a flurry of giggles washed over me.

"If you're planning on getting any of this honey, I suggest you find a better way of expressing yourself, Puckerman. Cause Zizes—" she stepped forward, "—don't do sleazy." Her deflection came with ease as she shouldered past his stiff frame.

My stomach tightened to cease the spasms rolling through it. Puck cut his eyes at me.

"I'm sorry," I managed through a chuckle, "it's just...God, you're so _bad_. No wonder she won't talk to you," I stammered through another fit of laughter.

"Yeah laugh it up, Lopez. If I recall, you practically wet yourself over those lines," he defended.

I recovered quickly because he was right. Lines like _that_ would have glued me to the mattress a year ago. My how things have changed...

"Fuck off," I bit out. "Now as I was saying before, I need a favor. I eventually plan on painting my room and I need some help."

"Laugh again and you'll be on your own," Puck warned, putting in the effort to look serious. A split second later his own raucous laugh penetrated student ears. "As long as you promise to shut all the windows and keep the door closed, I'm in. A little paint huffing never hurt anybody."

I eyed him curiously. "I don't know...you're kind of a walking example of it."

Before he had a chance to counter, the bell rang.

"That's my cue. Next period's math so I'm gonna sneak off to my car and take a little nap. Maybe spark one up to coast me through my classes—at least until we get to Glee club. You're welcome to join."

I gave him an amused smile. "Well that's productive."

"Come on, it'll be like old times," he encouraged, "joint before third period, sex after lunch." That filthy grin of his snapped into place.

"I'll pass for now. Just make sure you're still in one piece come Glee club. Britts is looking forward to all of us decorating the tree together," I reminded, lowering my attention to my nails.

"Oh that reminds me," Puck started, "Artie's looking for you."

My head snapped up. "Why?"

Puck shrugged me off. "Fuck if I know. Look I really need to go before Figgins catches me wandering. See you in Glee, Lopez."

I mumbled a goodbye and opened my locker to retrieve my books. Concern wormed its way into my belly. What could possibly compel Stubbles to talk to me? He hardly had the courage to make eye contact let alone engage in conversation. Unless something had changed...unless someone made a decision to change things...

No. No way. Don't even go there. Brittany wouldn't do that.

I shook the wafting assumptions away before they had a chance to fester. I slammed the locker shut.

And nearly shit myself at the sight of Artie sitting there in his wheelchair.

Fucking hell this guy was a ninja.

"Is it true about Brittany?" He inquired with that crisply clear voice.

You never notice how insanely blue his eyes are until he's right there, staring up at you in wonder. A tiny part of me doesn't anticipate seeing that vibrant light he carries behind his glasses blow out. As I said before, a _tiny_ part.

So much for secrecy. Thanks, B.

So I have some choices to make here. I can admit it flat out. How I've drank in the very sight of his girlfriend naked; how I've intimately explored every inch; how I've distorted her perception of relationships. That's just scratching the surface. I can't ignore how I've manipulated my way into her head or how I've fallen prey to my own advice. Things haven gotten messy and I can't deny how my previous state of morale has bent to accompany this overwhelming selfishness to have her by my side.

This sounds so much more devious in my head than it really is. I swear.

On the other hand I can do what I do best: twist the truth. I can rearrange a lie that feels so much more familiar on my tongue. Because honesty is rare for me. It's about as rare as an eclipse or lightning striking twice. Because the only truths I'm willing to embrace are the ones that follow with someone elses tears. Those I can handle; they leave me unscathed.

I guess I'll just have to—

"I'm only asking because you've known her the longest. It just seems so...silly. Even for Brittany."

And now I'm confused.

"Could you be anymore vague, Stubs? What are you getting at here?" I snapped naturally.

Artie cleared his throat as Dave and Azimio passed. I distracted myself momentarily with the dark stitching across the front of his cream colored sweater. I couldn't stop myself from leaning in when he perched himself forward in his chair as if he were spilling a secret.

"Does she really still believe in Santa Claus?"

_Oh. _

The authenticity of my laugh couldn't have surprised me more. Those invisible burlap sacks of worry had slipped off my back. I could _breathe_.

"Of course she does," I confirmed. "She's Brittany."

Artie smiled at the truth. My truth (I'm making progress).

"Her innocence is so endearing," Artie gushed, that light in his eyes still there. "But you know how mean people can be, Santana. You know she's not always as guarded as she should be."

"That's why she has me," I stated flippantly. For some reason I felt the need to say this. As if to stake my claim.

"Exactly. And Brittany has me too," Artie added. Looks like I'm not the only one marking my territory. "But we can't always be there for her. We're no where near being her secret service, Santana."

"So what's your point?" I asked curtly.

He sighed uneasily. "I know we don't always see eye to eye, but I need your help. I just want her to keep seeing things the way they are," the urgency of his tone wasn't lost on me."That's what makes her Brittany, you know?"

I nodded in response because I _did_ know, but the knot sliding up into my wind pipe obstructed my natural ability to agree.

"She believes in this _so_ much. I can't bare to see a manimal like Karofsky tear the rose colored glasses off her eyes."

"That wont happen," I assured with enough confidence to sheathe us both. "I'd destroy Karofsky before he ever got the chance."

Behind those thick rimmed frames, powder blue eyes twinkled with a ball of fire. A ball of _hope _that I'd make good on this threat. A white flag had been waved and his surrender couldn't have been sweeter. But that expression of...of _reliance_, gave me no desire to break him just yet. It bred a new alliance I never thought would see the light of day. This passive aggression towards Artie would only encumber me when it came to sheltering Brittany.

So I let it go.

Like hot coals in a rainstorm, it extinguished with a sizzle. It felt like relief. They say it's in the eyes. They may glaze over with lust or swim with passion. With Artie, it's certainly the gleam of captivation in those alight irises, but it's also the sincerity in his tone, and the way he uses his hands to further animate his feelings. These were the symptoms of a smitten boy. I'd seen this look in dozens of eyes when Brittany happened to be the center of attention. Those big blue eyes swelled with vulnerability. It made me stop. Just stop and comprehend. Stop and relate.

And yeah, I'll admit, a tiny part of me throbbed with a serious thrum. Vulnerable as ever, here he was climbing into the lion's den; dwelling with the enemy, telling me his fears and aspirations for the girl we all loved to protect.

_His_ girl. Yes, I got that. It doesn't discredit me or anything. I'm just as important. Best friends are important, right?

And for once this all made perfect sense—for both of us. We both wanted her innocence to remain intact. This belief in fantasy; in elves, and reindeer, and Santa Claus. We needed her to believe in the impossible because _look __at __us_. Sure we liked to think we cared a little too much but let's be honest here (more progress), it wasn't good enough. No one deserved Brittany. If we could just keep her believing in something, maybe she'd find it plausible to continue believing in us as well.

"Walk with me, Stubs. I think I may have some ideas," the words rolled off my tongue with little effort. Surprisingly, it didn't take long to realize my mistake. "Shit, that's not what I meant. I—"

"Don't worry about it," he waved me off with a leathery glove, "you know you don't have to get so soft because I'm in this wheelchair."

"Don't flatter yourself, Cripples. I'm only being courteous to avoid looking like a bitch in front of everyone," I said casually. "As soon as we round this corner I'm going to have the epiphany that I really don't give a shit. Hope you like your stairs steep."

"I prefer just Crip," he said, pumping his chest with his fist. "It boosts my rep around here."

"With that sweater, you're gonna need all the help you can get."

Artie kept my pace. I dumped my books into his lap.

**xXx**

"What are you gonna ask Santa for?" A tiny brunette in front of me asked.

"My parking tickets to be paid," I answered plainly.

The six year old frowned and tugged on her candy red vest.

"Be nice or you'll scare the kids." Artie rolled up beside me. He cast the girl a dazzling smile. "Santana's going to ask for lots and lots of presents. Isn't that right, Santana?"

I rolled my eyes, shoving my hands into my coat pockets. "Totally. I've been wanting this new Gucci bag for the longest," I said, mimicking the mirth of a pageant queen.

"Are you an iron man?" The little girl eyed Artie suspiciously.

"He's a knight," came Brittany's interjection. She wrapped her arms around Artie's neck. I swallowed a sour taste as Brittany nuzzled his skin. "_My_ knight."

The way Artie's eyes lit up and his smile broadened to show his pearly white incisors made me inclined me to hurl into an elf's' hats. But obviously this wasn't the time nor the place. I would have taken Brittany to Santa's Village regardless of my encounter with Artie. We visited every year for this exact same reason. I kept her belief alive. This wasn't new to me.

Last year's visit got a little...rough. My father—on a mission to buy Mom the perfect Christmas gift—took Britts and I for our annual Santa time. One specific elf had Brittany close to tears after he insisted that sitting on Santa's lap was inappropriate for a girl of Brittany's age. Daddy, being the presumptuous man that he is, punched the overly critical elf in the face. Sure they banned him from the mall after that (and he never got to finish his Christmas shopping), but you better believe no one ever referred to Brittany as inappropriate again. We Lopez's handled ours.

Analyzing our Santa of the year, I valued Brittany's simplistic perception of the world because who were we kidding? The guy in the suit was black for Christ's sake.

"I'm pretty sure this isn't gonna work. That guy doesn't even look like Santa," Tina noted.

"Trust me, all Brittany's gonna see is the suit," Artie told her in a factual tone, as if this plan were his own. I'm used to that. Because who really wants to admit that Santana Lopez puts the ball in motion every time? "She _wants_ to believe in him. 'Cedes, get up there."

Wheezy gave us a weary look and stepped up to the plate. Brittany practically bounced on the balls of her feet.

"Go Mercedes, go Mercedes, go Mercedes, go," she chanted excitedly.

I smiled at the adorableness of it all.

My Iphone vibrated in my coat pocket with the alert of a new text. I brought it up to eye's view.

**From: Puck (Bad ass #1)**

_Sry im missing out on all the santa fun. rachel has me tied up getting the snow machine together in the auditorium at school_

My forehead creased a little as I typed him back:

_What the hell would Berry need a snow machine for? You're missing out on the best part. Chocolate Rain over here looks like he's about to burst his load with Wheezy sitting on his lap. :) _

Even down to the sugary coat of her voice, Mercedes pantomimed the behavior of a little girl who still believed in Santa Claus perfectly. Artie and I beamed proudly at her. Next up, Lauren. The heavyset girl stomped down the aisle and threw herself onto Santa's lap with enough force to draw the oxygen out of his lungs as he uttered a soft 'oomph'. My phone shivered again.

**From: Puck (Bad ass #1) **

_shes preparing some elaborate serenade to finn or something. Hopefully he'll forgive her so we wont have to listen to her bitch anymore. maybe then they'll legitimately break up and the Puckerone will have a real shot at his hot little Jew princess putting out. Chocolate Rain, huh? Sounds like you need a little kosher up in there._

I blanched at his text and lifted my gaze at Lauren who was avidly twirling white bearded hair and asking Santa for Puckerman's sweet ass. I smirked and typed away:

_You'll be happy to know your Good Year blimp just asked Santa for you. Guess you didn't fuck up too badly the other day after all. Get your ass down here. I want to go shopping. _

A buzz reiterated almost instantly.

**From: Puck (Bad ass #1)**

_not your fucking puppy dog_

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. Another buzz.

**From: Puck (Bad ass #1)**

_ill be on my way. _

I smiled and prepared to put my phone away when I received one more message.

**From: Britt Britt**

_stop sexting puck and look up. _

I gazed up at Brittany whose finger jabbed the air, pointing directly at Santa's empty lap. Oh, my turn.

I stuffed my phone into my pocket and approached the chair. Brittany grasped my fingers for an instant and then let go. Her elated expression filled me with a joy that I hardly got to experience on my own.

"Ho, ho, ho! What can I do for you young lady?" Chocolate Rain asked as I settled into his lap.

It was warm alright, just like Quinn had said. And a little sticky...what the hell?

The burly sized man shifted under my weight which caused my ass to sink further...into his lap. I feel so dirty right now.

I conjured up my best smile because no doubt, Brittany watched with intensity. Mr. Chocolate Rain's breathing quickened significantly as I draped my legs over his lap. Coarse leathery hands sought out my lower back to keep me in place and I shivered involuntarily, fighting a grimace.

I leaned in to his bearded face. "Keep it PG, Mr. Claus or you'll be missing your monkey milking hand."

Chocolate Rain swallowed noticeably and slid his hand a little higher.

"That's better." My smile widened. "Now ask me what I want."

He cleared his throat. "So what can Santa get you for Christmas?"

"I want bling. I can't be anymore specific than that," I told him snappily. I was moments away from informing him of the ever so coveted white gold, princess cut studs I wanted from Daddy when I felt something. You know, _that_ something.

I paled and cut my eyes at him, popping off about the "roll of certs" in his pocket that were getting overly comfortable with my ass. The rest of my Glee club companions were curled over in laughter—especially Trouty Mouth and Malibu Barbie.

"Don't act so surprised, Santana. You _were_ practically gyrating in his lap. Is that an instinct or do you just do it for the attention?" Quinn jibed with acrid temperament.

The blonde bitch sauntered past with a smug undertone. I balled my fists to keep from attacking.

"And what would you like for Christmas, young lady?"

"Do you have anything for stretch marks?" She tried to keep her voice low but I heard anyway.

"It's about time you took care of that, Q. Your stomach probably looks like a road map," I barked out.

Quinn's face went stoic. I met her glare with my own pair of hateful eyes.

Brittany tugged on my fingers. "Santana, don't be mean."

I willed myself not to snap at her because it's always been this way. Ever since high school, Brittany's been in the middle of us. When Fabray grew tits and started using tampons, a bitch switch flipped on and the competitive nature boiling inside of us never really ceased. These days it's all or nothing with me. I purposely steal Brittany's time to ensure she has none left over to spend with anyone else. It's to protect her really. Quinn leaves an impression on people and I'll be damned if I let her fill Brittany's head with more bullshit on commitment and purity. She needed a positive influence in her life. What better person than her BFF?

**xXx**

"So we'll split it up and then meet back at the food court in an hour. Is that good?" Artie looked between our faces for any objections.

We confirmed the plan with silence and everyone broke off into units. Asian Fusion scrambled away to Hot Topic (I'm pretty sure that was Tina's idea); Mercedes ventured off to Bakers where she was free to salivate over that pair of purple suede wedges she'd been eying; and Queen Bee dragged her blue eyed prince off to where ever _she_ felt like going—his only real use being his toned up arms that kept track of shopping bags.

That left a crowd of three. The corner of Brittany's lips turned down into a frown. She appeared to be in a conflict about who to part with. Artie stared off forlornly, no doubt discouraged by B's hefty wish to Santa. My calm exterior didn't match the frenzy happening inside. I didn't care if we had to tie Artie up like a marionette puppet, he _would _walk. Disappointing Brittany was _not_ an option.

Just when the air began a transition into awkward we were saved by the Puckerman bell.

"Sup bitches!" echoed from behind us, followed by Puck's heavy biceps sliding around my and Brittany's shoulders.

"Professor X," he nodded to Artie, "good to see you out in daylight, bro. Didn't think you'd ever stop playing Halo."

Artie chuckled in response and feigned punching him.

"So where are we going?" Four Eyes asked us, suddenly in a much better mood.

"Toy store!" Brittany bellowed, taking off with me in the direction of the escalator.

The boys followed loosely behind. This was going to be a long day.

**xXx**

"I can't believe they kicked us out! Why would they do that?" Puck grumbled with his hands in his pockets.

"I don't know maybe because you and Stubbles were using light sabers as an extension of your dicks and whacking each other in front of four year olds? Just a thought," I said sardonically.

"Worst shopping buddies ever," Brittany dead panned. "I just wanted a Barbie. Lord Tubbington is in desperate need of a girlfriend. He can't keep fondling my cabbage patch dolls."

Impending silence followed by the occasional eyebrow lift. Typical day with Brittany.

"So...where to now?" Puck addressed me.

"I need new underwear," Brittany randomly noted.

"We're supposed to be Christmas shopping," I reminded.

"I know but I'm _really_ short on underwear, San." Her bottom lip jutted out at me in a pout. "I think I keep losing them at your house. I have no idea where those cute pink ones are with the bow. Those were your favori—"

"Okay let's go in," I cut her off.

Artie's expression couldn't have been more curious but it was inquisitive none the less. Puck's smile had slipped off into a lopsided smirk that made me want to slap him.

They gladly followed our lead—perhaps a little too gladly. Once inside the walls of Victoria's Secret, the boys surprisingly stayed close. Brittany and I gravitated towards the underwear drawers which seemed to hold a special allure for the boys as they inspected a variety of thongs and boy shorts.

"Oh sweet Jewish Lord, look at this, bro!" Puck swatted Artie's shoulder, excitedly. A lavender colored v-string hung between his fingers. "And they call _this_ underwear? More like a sheet of toilet paper."

"Check this one out," Stubbles offered, presenting Puck with a lacy pair of raspberry colored boy shorts.

"I love a girl in boy shorts," Puck gushed.

"I think you two need to get laid more often," I quipped, opening and closing drawers just for the show of it as I waited on Brittany to make her decision.

"You already know I'm trying," Puck replied. A brunette saleswoman approached him and he rounded, holding up the v-string. "Do you have these in like...an extra, extra, extra large?"

I sank my teeth into my lip to stop myself from laughing at the saleswoman's reaction.

The soft skin of Brittany's open palm pressed over the back of my hand.

"Do you plan on buying anything or are you just going to keep closing those drawers until you slam your fingers?" she asked with the hint of a smile.

I shrugged. "Depends."

I watched her fingers curl around my own against the drawer.

"On what?" her voice remained even but dropped down into a whisper. I suddenly became more aware of how close we were standing.

"If I want to use them later on," I husked, my eyes permanently fixed on the drawer.

She squeezed my hand and reiterated the question, "on what?"

I gulped and for _once_ endured a forethought. Artie couldn't have been more than four feet away. Yes, he and Puck were avidly arguing with the saleswoman about size discrimination in the store but still, _four __feet__ away_. This shouldn't be happening. Her fingers shouldn't weave themselves through the gaps of my hand so seamlessly. Her brushing hip shouldn't reduce me to labored breaths and caged butterflies. It just shouldn't. But it's there. Oh God is it there. And her disregard for our surroundings, as she encircles my fingers, does _nothing _to soothe me.

It's the way she opens me up and reads me like an open book that induces a weight to topple down into my belly and an earthquake to tremble through my skin. But the intensity is hardly unnerving. I welcome it. Because most of the time my insides reflected that of a gutted jack-o-lantern; just waiting for a candle to illuminate the damage. I wasn't half as hollow with B around. Not at all.

It's Puck's groan that shakes me out of this haze of metaphors and impulses. Now that could only mean two things: either he's getting one awesome blow job from this sales bitch or he's found himself in some deep shit. Hoping to God it's the latter.

"What is it?" I couldn't help but sneer. If it wasn't for his throaty interruption, Brittany would still be holding my god damn hand.

"Don't look now," on instinct our eyes darted around the store, "but that's Ms. Warren over there. Whitney's mom," he rasped quietly and pointed at a remarkably tall, blonde woman. Her skin, sun kissed and blemish free, advertising a veneer of perfection. "I may have _incidentally_ cleaned her pool a few months ago."

"Wait. Hold up," I raised a hand, "let me get this straight. You _fucked_ Whitney's _mom_?"

"A little louder, Santana, as if every resident in Ohio couldn't hear you."

"That's fucking priceless," I laughed, ignoring his dagger like gaze. This information was _so_ gonna come in handy one day.

"This is no joking matter," Puck growled out. "She brought the fucking God of Thunder with her over there. If she sees me and her boyfriend picks up on the tension, he's going to stomp my ass."

We all cast a sideways glance at the hulking figure beside Ms. Warren with a blatant hold on her Pilates toned ass. The Thor resemblance uncanny with his golden shoulder length hair and the biceps of a seasoned steroid abuser.

"The Puckasaurus is gonna stand down before he winds up as crippled as his friend here—no offense, Artie my man." He offered Artie an apologetic look.

"None taken my brotha," Artie assured. "I'll follow you. Got some Christmas shopping to do."

Brittany leaned in to allow Four Eyes' chaste kiss against her pink tinted cheek.

"You most certainly will be missed," I stated dryly. I'd come down from that cloud of Brittany bliss, no longer capable of ignoring this mess of hair and Christmas sweater before me. Reality struck a sullen chord.

"We'll see you at the food court," Brittany promised, enthusiasm lowered into her voice. Her eyes lifted to me. "Bra fittings in two minutes. Be there or be square."

I bobbed my head in response.

"She wouldn't miss it for the world," Puck taunted in my ear, earning a quick elbow to the ribs.

"Will you talk to her for me?" Stubbles asked once Brittany had disappeared. "About the Santa thing, I mean. It was a pretty big request."

His tone prompted with a kindliness I wasn't prepared for just yet. If ever. We weren't friends. We weren't even acquaintances. We had a common interest: Brittany. When said interest was satisfied, we were through. I wanted to tell him this. I wanted to spit it out in such a way that the lash of my tongue left a big welt.

"I'll try," came out instead. We hadn't accomplished anything just yet. We were still an unlikely alliance with the sole goal of keeping a specific girl's vision of the world in tact. This wasn't the time to sabotage just yet.

A shit eating grin took form on his face and it took everything in me not to scratch it right off. My nails go deep, his girlfriend should know.

"Good," he said pleasantly. I masked my building petulance by mirroring his smile to the tee. "Just one more thing though. _Please_ discourage her from buying me anymore of those blinking wheelchair lights. As much as I love looking pimped out as I ride down a dark alleyway, it does nothing for my reputation with the guys."

My grin widened to assuage the contempt bubbling in my throat for this guy right now. _I_ personally knew that Brittany's oddball gifts were an extension of her character. She bought on impulse when it came to presents and always had a particular element of your personality in mind. With me that was everything from bacon flavored candy canes to binocular flasks (don't ask). Brittany put more thought into gifts than anyone cared to realize. Including Artie—who took it _completely_ for granted. It comforted me to know there were still some things about Brittany that he _didn't_ know; that he _didn't _understand. _I_ personally wanted to keep it that way.

So I humored the bastard, spouting some shit about narrowing her options down to bow ties and nipple clamps for flavor. His expression was one of shock for a good five seconds before he caught a glimpse of roguery in my eyes. That's when he laughed away the hovering tension. And that's when I stole a glance at the fitting rooms, where his girlfriend awaited my intrusion for reasons Artie couldn't possibly determine.

**xXx**

In all the time that I've known her, Brittany has never been shy about her body. Nudity in her house is as common as passing the salt at the dinner table so it hardly surprised me when she shed her Cheerios uniform like a second layer of skin. The sight did nothing to desensitize my body's initial reaction though. My pulse picked up a rapid tempo, a blockade of tension swelled the confines of my throat, and my brain pumped out an unusual secretion of dopamine that had me crossing myself to ensure I didn't do anything...impulsive.

From this angle I had a glorious view of Brittany's backside as I perched on the lounging bench. Her eyes remained glued on her reflection where she stood assessing her nearly naked form. An unresolved expression settled and her lip worried between her teeth in silent thought.

"What do you think of this one? She finally asked, her hands fitting into the dips of her hips.

It didn't take long to zero in on her newly accentuated cleavage where a pattern of black and silver lacing embroidered her bra cups. The sight couldn't have been more mouthwatering.

"Looks great," my tone, casual; a complete contradiction to the way my stomach twitched in anticipation.

Brittany rewarded me with a full row smile and twirled a bit in front of the mirror to get a better look.

"Girls are so much better than boys when it comes to this," she mused. "Whenever I ask Artie how I look he kind of just nods and starts breathing really heavy until his glasses fog up."

"Sounds like Droid over there had a man gravy moment," I smirked.

"Don't talk about gravy, San. You're making me hungry."

Brittany licked her lips. I crossed my legs.

"We can um, go down to the food court if you want?"

Brittany shook her head. "Not yet. Artie's still probably fretting over what to get me," she stepped towards me, "He should really leave that up to Santa. Will you undo this?" she prompted, turning her back.

I cleared my throat roughly and mumbled, "sure." My fingers found the clasp of her bra easily but my nerves had me fumbling like a 14-year-old virgin. "I think it's just a pride thing—sorry," I said when my cool fingers brushed her skin. "I mean, who really wants to be outdone by a morbidly obese man who crams himself down your chimney to pull a 'B & E'."

Brittany slid the straps down her arms so I could see the smooth contours of her back. Her freckles had blended seamlessly with her flushed pink skin; a response to winter. She crossed the small fitting room just as I reached out to touch her spine.

"I'm convinced guys just generally suck at gift shopping. Remember last year when my dad offered to give us all birth control for Christmas?"

I suppressed a smile. "That actually came in handy...for most of us." Brittany cast me an eye roll over her shoulder as she slid on another bra. "The gay ones aren't so bad though. Seems like they were born with all the talents of Martha Stewart and Tyra Banks. Food and clothes is all you need," I commented absently as my eyes crawled up her body; less leering, more appreciating. I was feeling pretty gay myself right now.

Brittany wheeled around to frown at me but the expression hardly made it home as my attention fell on her chest. Fire engine red with a black lace trim, soft enough to slip a hand under; a siren's choice.

"It seems like we lost our only one at Mckinley."

As soon as she uttered the words I knew I'd made a mistake by bringing it up because the casual air had gone and the stress in her eyes told me she wanted to discuss this. I wasn't ready to talk, I was ready to do shit.

"How do you feel about that?" I glanced down at my hands. If we were going to have this conversation I couldn't be staring at her tits as I contemplated all the things we could surely be doing right now.

"Sad," Brittany said after a moment, "I loved Kurt. His hands were really soft."

Her honey melted voice drew me back like a magnet. Fire engine red. Damn it.

"Softer than mine?" I challenged with a raised eyebrow.

Brittany crossed the room in a step and leaned down so that we were at eye level. My nerves tingled as she grasped my hand and placed it over her cheek. She cupped her palms over the hand and slowly rubbed her face against it, creating a warming effect. Someone sighed (I think it was me) and then she dropped my hand away.

"Never yours." She smiled. So close. Close enough to kiss but my body had stiffened; too paralyzed by the eyes that arrested me. If my nerves weren't so on edge, crackling with electricity, I would have never noticed the small circles she drew over my palm. The eye contact felt infinite as something seemed to unravel inside of me. I couldn't quite place what it was but it snapped away like a rubber band.

And then she was gone. Back at the mirror, assessing her physique, judging her beauty.

I took a minute to steady my rabbit heart because that intimacy there, it dulled senses and curbed feelings; raised new questions. Questions I typically disregarded.

"Britt?"

"Hm?"

"How do you feel about...gay people in general?"

"I don't know, San," Brittany's reflection shrugged. "They're just being what they were born to be."

"So...you're saying they have no other choice?" I proceeded cautiously.

She caught my eye in the mirror. "It's like any other thing. Like Mike and I, we were born to dance."

"Yeah but that's different," my arms instinctively crossed, a bout of anxiety stirring, "no one wants to hurt you because of that."

"It's just jealousy," the words were soft, only meant for me.

"I don't think people are jealous that they're gay, B. There's nothing to envy in their situation," my voice came off harder than I intended it to.

"Maybe not, but they're jealous that they're free," she said and swiveled her gaze to look directly at me. "That's all that really counts, isn't it? Being free?"

I unfolded my arms, shoulders relaxing. "Of course it is."

"Then they're free to be who they are. Just like us." She reached me in a stride. "We're free to cheer and join Glee club." She fell down into my lap. "I'm free to believe in Santa." Her fingers traced the fate lines of my hand. "And I'm _also_ free to do this..."

She leaned in confidently close and drew my bottom lip between her teeth. I never had a chance to respond because she pulled back just as quickly as the action began. The playfulness of it left a lingering smile. Britt swooped in again and I met her this time, preparing to smash my lips into hers—make her regret ever having me wait this long. But she dodged me, going off to the right to lick a clean trail up my cheek. I gasped at the feeling, shocked for all of three seconds, before I pulled back and squeezed her against me.

"That was real cute," my breath hot in her ear, "but I will not tolerate being made a fool out of by a girl who isn't even wearing real clothes."

"How do you like the bra anyway?" She shifted in my lap to sit side saddle. "You never commented."

"The red's very festive," I told her and then followed it up by planting an open mouthed kiss on her neck. I laughed at the crimson rushing up; the only betrayal to her cool exterior.

"Thanks," Brittany beamed, completely gratified. "That's..." a peck on the forehead, "exactly..." a kiss on the chin, "what I..." a brush to my jawline, "was going for," she finished by grazing her nose against my cheek.

"Stop that," I said, tightening my grip on her waist. "You're way too naked to be Labrador cute right now."

Our foreheads joined to support Brittany's lazy form which relaxed against me. That soul searching thing resumed. Heavy lidded eyes to alight, excited ones. I studied her lips for a good 10 seconds, then reached out to cup the nape of her neck where I twisted loose ringlets of hair between my fingers.

She breathed out a sigh and the air suddenly tasted sweeter. While her heart rate trickled back down to normal speed, mine ran a marathon, jumped hurdles, and scaled walls. I couldn't find the words. We'd never been so close yet not _close_ close. I didn't want to disturb it, whatever the fuck this was. I didn't want to sabotage it.

Our mouths hovered mere inches apart. I could almost taste her. Curious hands wandered up my front until they settled over my neck where a rapid pulse beat violently against her palms like a kettle drum. The curvature of her lips fascinated me every time they parted and pursed; some things were better left unsaid.

"Santana," my name rolled off her tongue like liquid gold; so rich and delightful. I let my silence work out a response. She took that as room to continue, "it's been almost five whole minutes and you're not even naked yet. Are you broken?"

My laughter vibrated through the both of us until I manage the feat of looking her in the eye without grinning like a stoned clown.

"Balls in your court, B," I whispered against her lips, a gentle hand sliding up her elbow, "I'm as naked as you want me."

The eye gazing finally ceased when those dallying hands slipped up behind my neck and she claimed my mouth. My words, a match to dripping gasoline. I forced myself to exhale after the kiss robbed me of air. Naturally, I expected my lungs to burn from the lack of oxygen but it was my hands that seared instead, twitching alive over hot skin. So much skin. And naked. So much naked.

My Cheerios shirt joined Brittany's on the floor, next to her skirt and shoes. I pushed my tongue back into hers, fervor on the tip. Suppressed tension burst through me like live shrapnel threatening to rip me apart. So damn good. I bargained with her to stand at my request and when she did I pinned her to the mirror soundly. Initially the cool glass seemed to startle Brittany but once my body remolded itself to hers she relaxed.

I savored her floral tasting skin; the lilacs scent dizzying my senses; and the friction down below as I forced my thigh between hers. She held firm on my neck when we reattached lips. I mirrored her deft movements with her tongue, allowing her to take more control than I necessarily would in any other situation. My fingers grabbed at ribs while hers pawed at more clothing. Hands slid up my thighs and under my Cheerios skirt to deliver a firm squeeze. Spankies bunched while nails dug deep. My oh fucking my.

Teeth sunk into my lip hard and unapologetic. That inclined me to slip slender fingers under her jaw, a firm grip followed by the weight of a kiss that forced her lips apart and sent her knees quivering. I stroked and massaged with great care once inside; a tender gesture for such a bruising touch. Hips curved up to meet mine repeatedly. I dropped my hand away from her chin only to rest it against her chest. Brittany's hands drew up behind her to unclasp the obstruction. Goodbye fire engine red.

I nearly choked on my own air at the sight of bare skin. Brittany slumped back against the mirror, naked vulnerability and all. An offering in the purest form. I swallowed to moisten the dryness that had suddenly accumulated. Swollen lips, thumping chest, flushed skin. So. Fucking. Perfect.

I started at the neck, trailing a moist path of kisses down her pulse and collarbone. I sucked lightly at that patch of skin just above her dipping cleavage. Brittany traced her fingers along my back as I went to work on her nipple. The distinct sound of a dressing room door opening in the distance solidified all motion. We shared a look, our feet cemented into the floor, too tense to make a sound.

Thirty agonizing seconds passed before I could finally breathe. Brittany must have taken that as permission to continue because her hips resumed their rolling. I cut my eyes at her but she kept her undulations up, unabashed and seemingly undaunted by our neighbors. Her eyes spelled out a challenge with the smallest hint of a smile tugging the corners of her mouth. Some where in the last functioning part of my brain I knew I didn't stand a chance against those boldly moving hips. Fuck.

I twirled her around until her back was flush against me; my chin rested on her shoulder. Her eyes never left mine; the mirror acting as an intermediate. It never shows us more than we're willing to give. I wonder whose giving what because my insides are fluttering differently now than when I first stepped into this dressing room.

I felt that I should say something about it. Address this new found conflict. But the moment was all wrong. Maybe you're not supposed to mention it at all. Some things are better left unsaid.

All smugness waned and hands braced against glass when I dipped a hand into her panties. Arousal drenched venturing digits almost instantly at the sight of me touching her. Not willing to waste another second, I pushed past her welcoming folds to find a suitable rhythm that would get her off in the fastest way possible. We were no doubt lingering on shoplifter time now.

Brittany's panting breath left fog rings on the vanity. We'd never done it quite like _this_ before and to be honest, it was hot. The addition of a finger inspired a gasp from those bow shaped lips. Brittany's eyes fixated on my left laborious hand while mine skimmed over aesthetic features. I recorded every detail for later, just to revisit this moment. The way she melded against me; warmth suffocating my busy hand. Legs spread apart, hips reaching for more depth, another knuckle to pass.

My lips hemmed over her neck with the trace of teeth. Faceless words entombed my hollow chest. They'd unbraided themselves from a thread woven stomach and now traveled upward, hanging, pulling.

I found Brittany's mouth before the thoughts in my head found my vocal chords. She drank the words right off my lips. Snuffed the flickering fire out with a smother of sand. Quick sand. I was sinking fast, I needed a savior.

Oppressed words translated into motions and friction. Strokes grew prolonged, kisses lingered against skin. And somewhere in those bare seconds of release I'd never felt more in tune with Brittany. The orgasm flushing through her system tangible proof of the development between us. No _boyfriend_ would ever measure up to this. The verity of that sent my ego on a trip. Santana Lopez knew _her_ Brittany better than anyone.

We were dressed and out of the fitting rooms before anyone could call the cops on us. Brittany's candescent demeanor certainly left an impression as she drifted off to the cashier—chromatic unmentionables in hand.

I feigned interest in a clothing rack full of cashmere, biding my time until we could leave. Sex gave me the munchies even if I wasn't the one having it.

A glimpse of honey flashed into my peripheral. I turned, preparing to greet Brittany's warm smile with a carbon copy of my own. But any possibility of that happening faded when I fell under the weight of severe hazel eyes.

"Q, what are you doing here? Motherhood Maternity is three doors down," I sniped.

"What is it with you and this obsession with my pregnancy?" She asked.

"No obsession, you're just a caricature of a Lima statistic now," I shrugged complacently. "Pretty soon you'll be eligible for _Real __Housewives__ of__ Ohio _once you get knocked up again. I hear previous moms are more fertile."

"You're getting rather sloppy with the baby jokes, Santana," she paused, eyes darting over my face, "among other things."

I took the bait without even realizing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Warm hazel solidified until there was nothing left but a bone chilling cold.

"I knew you were sneaky, Santana, but I never thought you'd drag Brittany down to your level."

Wait, what?

"Okay first off," I stepped into her personal space, "mind your tongue when it comes to Brittany or you'll find yourself being picked up off the floor, Princess." She raised an eyebrow. "And second, what the fuck are you talking about?"

Quinn didn't answer right away. She fidgeted with her hands, glanced over my shoulder, avoided eye contact all together. For a minute. And then she was speaking so softly I had to strain my ears to listen.

"I should have seen this coming. You were always so close. And in rare moments when you weren't together, people noticed," she smiled faintly. "A package deal, I guess." Her sigh exuded heavily, a crease emerged over her forehead. "Tell me I'm wrong about the dressing room."

I couldn't find my words. The silence confirmed her assumptions either way. Some things were better left...I don't really know anymore.

Quinn laughed; the sound hollow and short of joy. "My god, Santana. Just one person. Can we know just one person you haven't had sex with yet?"

"Your neutered boyfriend," I answered condescendingly.

Irritation flared up in her eyes and translated into her fists which balled at her sides. Mine were already there, a fight or flight instinct at work.

"Why?" Quinn threw her hands out in question. "Why, Britt? You couldn't find anyone else to fuck up on such short notice?"

"Fuck up? Brittany _wanted _this. She came back every single time," I sneered at her.

"Jesus Christ, Santana are you even hearing yourself?" Quinn started to raise her voice but thought better of it when I cut my eyes at her. "She looks up to you—God knows why, but she does. Of course she's going to listen to you. She doesn't know any better."

"Do you ladies need any help?" The brisk voice of a saleswoman intervened.

"No thank you," and "step the hell off," whipped out simultaneously. The woman rushed away after meeting our permanent scowls. My stance remained tense while Quinn's spelled out dejection. Game face on.

"So what's your plan, Q? You gonna narc on me to Artie?"

"I could care less about Artie," she said truthfully, "but B needs a new perspective. You know it's gonna break her heart when Artie dumps her over this."

"Whose to say she won't break his?" I challenged.

Quinn shot me a knowing look. "We both know that'll never happen."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Why is everyone so afraid to hurt him? He survived a fucking auto accident, I'm pretty sure he can handle a high school break up."

"You know how sensitive Brittany is, Santana. There's this nasty thing called guilt. I doubt that term holds any meaning to you but for Britt it's everything." Quinn casually sorted through a row of v-necks.

Before my brain could catch up to my body, I was wrenching her by the elbow.

"Don't you dare patronize me."

"Let. Go." she emphasized the words through grit teeth.

I dropped her arm before we attracted any more attention.

"Don't be so melodramatic," I hissed at her as she rubbed a hand over her forearm.

"You can't get pissed every time someone doesn't act the way you want. The whole world isn't yours to just manipulate and fuck whenever you feel like it, Santana."

I shook my head at her in awe. "You know what you are, Quinn Fabray? You're a hypocrite. Look at you," I gestured towards her with sharp motions, "just flaunting that holier than thou attitude in my face. Just pointing that dirt stained finger." Quinn's expression darkened, arms crossed over chest. "Tell me something. Who was there for you at cheer camp when you were still recovering from _your_ summer surgery. Hm? Oh, that's right, me. I kept my promises to you, Quinn. As much as they fucking killed me at times, I kept every single one."

Her mouth snapped open to repel me but I cut her off, voice rising, hands balling and uncurling. Adrenaline pumping, a loose wire flailing about.

"And how do you repay me? You stab at any possible point of weakness. You tell Coach about my boob job. You get me demoted to the bottom of the pyramid. You—"

"I was angry okay?" the words exploded from her lips. "After I got pregnant you made my life a living hell. You stabbed me first," she said brokenly. "I didn't want to forgive you after that. I'd be stupid if I did."

"And what do you think compelled me to do that, Q? I don't know, maybe it was after you slept with _my_ fucking boyfriend at the time and on top of that made him fall in love with you because you were carrying his bastard child. What does that say about you, Quinn?" A rare moisture gathered at the brim of her eyes but it remained unspilled. "You're not _good_. You're not _pure_. You're just a scared little girl playing the manipulative role of a bitch whose every boy's wet dream. A slut, Quinn. You're me in your worst fucking nightmare."

"I'm sorry but we're going to have to ask you two to leave," a saleswoman informed snottily, a good three feet put between us.

"I'm not leaving without my friend," our voices chimed together. Quinn and I shared a look momentarily.

"You're free to wait outside, please."

"Oh hells no. Did you not just hear us say we we're waiting on a frien—"

"We're going now, thanks." Quinn pushed me towards the exit.

"I say we wait on her to go on break and Lima Heights her ass," I grumbled once outside the store.

"Relax," Quinn said, leaning against a wall.

I joined her on the wall, hands in Cheerios jacket, eyes cast down at my shoes. The previously violent air had evaporated some since they kicked us out but that hardly meant guards down. Never around Fabray.

"I don't really know how this goes but...I guess I'm sorry," the sincerity was apparent in her tone. "I didn't...I never...I'm just sorry," she worried her lip between her teeth, uncertainty crossing her eyes. "If I ever like, hurt you—"

"Please stop talking. You're shit at apologies," I told her candidly.

Quinn laughed."We'll you're shit at accepting them," she smiled. "You're so...stubborn."

"So?" I countered defensively.

"So I'm warning you," she said seriously. "Artie's her boyfriend. Get that through your thick, inconceivable skull."

"I got that a while ago. Still don't care."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "All I'm saying is you're a possessive person. Don't even try to act like you don't still claim Puck in front of Glee club." She ignored my glare and continued, "You're going to get tired of it—her spending all of her time with Artie. And make no mistake you're going to try and ruin it." Her brows knit uneasily. "Don't ruin it. It'll hurt her and...and I know you really don't want that.

"Brittany's a free bird. Whatever she decides to do with C3PO junior is up to her. Not gonna lose sleep over it."

Honey blonde flashed in front of me. The _right_ kind. I smiled that smile I'd locked away the second I laid eyes on Quinn and passed it on to Brittany. She fussed with us about leaving the store for all of five seconds before we were off to view the large Christmas tree downstairs in the foyer.

Quinn must have stalled us for at least another 30 minutes before we finally met up with the rest of Glee club again. Sam didn't seem too upset by Quinn's disappearing act since she ditched him in a sporting goods store. Artie, however, whined like a newborn in the absence of his breast feeding mother. Brittany settled into his lap, feeding him fries and laughing with Mercedes and Tina. Puck slung a protective arm around the back of my chair to which I snuggled into. Quinn watched me curiously, every so often interjecting comments into the conversation.

I remained silent and still in Puck's arms. He never asked me why we were in this position, just took me in and offered his body as a home. I valued his blithe disregard for explanations. We weren't in love—hell, we didn't even like each other most days—but it was better than nothing at all. This pseudo comfort kept all of those unspoken words and feelings in check. The coping mechanism to loneliness. An antidote for insomnia.


	14. Author's Note

**Author's Note: **

**A message to my loves.**

**First off, I apologize immensely for my complete M.I.A. I haven't abandoned this beloved story I just haven't been in the right frame of mind for it. Now let's get down to business. This site is cracking down on all M rated stories. The smutty ones of course so I'll be forced to find a new means of posting. I've already backed this up so I'm not worried in the least. I set up a tumblr a few days ago, it's tuckyourgayin so go there and follow me for updates (I'll let you know when I've finally posted the story again). I have an Archive of Our Own account but I know that a lot of other people don't since it's invite only so I'll probably be posting my works on Live Journal under the name WereATwoShot after some writing tweaks are finished.  
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**Thanks for all of the reviews, alerts, and favorites. You guys are amazing.**


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